Broken
by ysar
Summary: I wasn't like the women in those movies you see when you're channel surfing over a pint of ice cream at two in the morning. Everything was perfect. My grades were good, my college was paid for, and the future of my dreams was set. Until it wasn't.
1. Age of Innocence

Bella and everything else in the Twilight universe belong to Stephenie Meyer, her publishing company, and lots of other people who have more money than I ever will. I just borrow them because I'm lazy and unoriginal. No copyright infringement is intended.

Rated for violence, language, and eventually some yellow fruit I keep hearing about.

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_**The deepest definition of youth is life as yet untouched by tragedy.**_**  
~Alfred North Whitehead**

**Chapter One: Age of Innocence **

I wasn't like the women in those movies. You know, the ones you catch on the Lifetime network when you're channel surfing over a pint of ice cream at two in the morning? I didn't get sucked in by grand gestures and lavish gifts. I wasn't the poor, plain, ignored girl who'd magically attracted the attention of the most handsome man in town. I wasn't so devoid of self-esteem that I just accepted whatever hell I got as something I deserved. And he wasn't just an act, waiting, baiting me to fall for him so he could beat me and break me. No, the guy I fell for was real. He was sweet and considerate, he was funny and smart, and he was so roguishly beautiful that I couldn't stop staring at him long after the 'honeymoon phase' was over. I didn't fall for some charming façade only to learn that Mr. Right was actually Mr. Right Hook. No, I was different. He was different. And that's what made what happened all the more difficult to accept.

We'd been friends first. We'd known each other since our freshman year in high school when I was the new girl, and he was the guy I maimed with an errant pitch in P.E. We walked to classes together and occasionally had lunch together. I'd copy his physics notes, and he'd get my help with his English homework. He even picked me up when the worst date of my life left me stranded downtown because I wouldn't put out after junior prom. My date from hell just happened to suffer a broken nose that weekend, and I knew it was no coincidence. After that, we continued to look out for each other. He did the oil changes on my truck, and I helped him pick out the perfect Christmas present for his mom. I even set him up with a girl he had a huge crush on in our biology class, and he constantly reminded me that the guys I went out with didn't deserve me. It was a true friendship, and I honestly never thought it would be anything more.

It wasn't until our senior year that we found ourselves tangled up on his sofa, both having had too much to drink after making asses of ourselves at frat party we'd somehow talked our way into, and both a little depressed that the dating pool wasn't worth dipping a toe in. I'm not sure who kissed who, but before I knew it, our lips were crushed together and we were breathing heavily, hoping his mom didn't come home soon. I turned the most unflattering shade of red when he yanked my t-shirt up to my neck, and we both snapped out of our alcohol induced lust-haze immediately. Well, not all the way out of it, but enough that we realized we were treading on dangerous ground. He had apologized profusely, to the point that I finally laughed and begged him to forget about it. But there was something about that kiss that neither of us could forget.

A few weeks later, we were officially dating. He'd bring me daisies and take me out to dinner. He even saved up enough from his after-school job to take me to one of those five-star restaurants in Seattle at the end of the school year. He said was it his combination graduation and anniversary present to me. We'd been dating for six months. And not once during those six months had he tried to pull my clothes off again.

In fact, he was so respectful when it came to physical boundaries that I eventually had to take the lead. School had let out early one day, and we were alone in my room. I got up the nerve to grab his hand and push it up under my shirt. He happily got the point, and we'd spent several wonderful minutes making out until my dad got home and threatened to shoot him. Dad's a cop, so we were pretty sure he had the resources and connections to make it look like a suicide.

Dad kept pretty close tabs on us after that, sometimes sitting with us while we watched a movie in the living room, sometimes making not-so-subtle comments about how late it was getting, and never letting him anywhere near my bedroom again. I finally had to sit Dad down for a very uncomfortable conversation about how I was eighteen, about to go to college, and mature enough to decide if or when I would have sex with my boyfriend. Dad watched us suspiciously all summer, but he didn't give me any more trouble about it.

Fall semester started and I moved into my first apartment. Dad had offered to pay for a dorm (as long as it wasn't coed) or even buy me a new car so I'd have reliable transportation if I wanted to live at home and commute, but I insisted on my own place. Besides, I loved my old truck, even if it was hideous and loud, and I didn't want to be a burden. A small town cop's salary only stretches so far. Luckily, I'd been saving every penny for years, ever since I was thirteen and got my first babysitting job. Between my penny pinching and a modest inheritance I'd received when my Grandma Marie passed away, I had enough financial footing that I could concentrate on my education and not worry about a part-time job. But in the end, I got a full scholarship, so the money I'd saved was put to other uses...like my new apartment.

I rented a big, beautiful, three-bedroom place in the nicer part of town, and it was just a short walk from campus. The largest bedroom was just off the living room, and I turned it into my own little library, outfitting it with a comfortable loveseat for curling up and reading as well as a large antique desk for studying. The smallest bedroom had the worst view, overlooking an alley, so I made that into the guestroom, and over time it became my makeshift storage space as well. It wasn't like I would be entertaining many overnight guests anyway, but it was good to have a second bed available just in case. The middle-sized bedroom was down the hallway behind the kitchen and it overlooked the courtyard, so I made that my room. It was connected to my library by an enormous bathroom, complete with one of those old fashioned claw-foot tubs. A second bathroom was down the hall, and to top it off, I had a nice sized kitchen, a small wood-burning fireplace, and gorgeous hardwood floors. And since mine was a corner unit, my balcony wrapped all the way around, with big glass doors opening up off the library, my bedroom, and the living room. It was absolutely indulgent, and I loved it.

We talked about moving in together, but in the end we agreed a step like that should wait. It was our first semester at college, our first time not living with our parents, and the first time we could truly make our own decisions. One step at a time, we told ourselves. It wasn't like we were ever really apart for every long anyway, but it was nice to have a place to call 'only mine' at the end of the day. I decorated according to my mood, filled my library with worn out copies of my favorite books, and spent hours whipping up pseudo gourmet meals in my kitchen.

Things were so perfect, in fact, that he proposed over Christmas break. So much for not rushing things. I'd thought Dad was going to have a heart attack when he saw me peel the wrapping paper back to reveal what was clearly a ring box, but he'd managed to hold it together long enough for me to say yes. We didn't want to get married right away anyhow. Our engagement simply illustrated what we already knew; that we had forever in our grasp. The truth was that we weren't even going to set a date until after we both had college degrees in hand. Poor Dad looked heartbroken, insisting he would always see me as the clumsy little five year old who never did quite learn how to keep a bicycle upright. I knew that while he wanted me to be happy, my growing up wasn't easy for him. But he took it in stride, congratulating us and awkwardly explaining the benefits of waiting several years before starting a family.

Everything was perfect. My grades were good, my college was paid for, and the future of my dreams was set. Until it wasn't.

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**For those of you who read Breathe Again: **No, I am not abandoning that fic for this one, so save your panic for imprinting ;) I actually began writing this fic in...January? February? I don't remember exactly. I just had a gazillion chaps written out before my divorce & move. I tested it out on my LJ friends, they love it, and I decided to go ahead and start sharing it with the rest of the world. So here you go, World. Enjoy. And then review. And then find me on Twitter, 'cause I could use the company.


	2. Paradise Lost

**Just so you know, this is where the rating for violence comes into play. If you're under 18, now would be the time to turn around.**

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_**The mind is its own place, and in it self  
Can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven.  
**_**~John Milton**

**Chapter Two: Paradise Lost **

We were one month into the spring semester of our first year of college when it happened. He called me at three in the morning, and he sounded devastated. I could barely make out what he was saying. His voice was broken by racking sobs, but I caught enough to throw on some clothes and rush uptown to the hospital. His mother was hooked up to a million machines, clinging to life, and he was simply falling apart. She was the only family he had, and they'd always been close. She'd come to town for a short visit, and they'd gone out to dinner. My study schedule had prevented me from joining them, but we were all going to meet for brunch the next day before her flight home. He'd been behind the wheel, and there was nothing he could do to avoid the drunk driver weaving in and out of oncoming traffic. His little car had been crushed, and he'd been unconscious for hours. But in the end, he walked away with only a pretty serious concussion and a lot of ugly cuts. She didn't make it through surgery.

I didn't immediately notice when things started to change, but looking back, I'm pretty sure it was the moment I tried to hold his hand after the doctor gave him the bad news. He'd pulled away from me like he'd been burned, and I'd assumed it was because he was suffering so much. I worried about him, and I did my best to take care of him, but something more than his mother had died that night.

Over the next few weeks, his voice changed. Whereas it had once been soft and comforting, it now had a hard, sharp edge to it. The kinds of things he said changed, too. For the first time, he'd lose control and start yelling at me, a kind of wall-shaking roar that had me trembling with an unfamiliar fear. No longer did he ask about my day or tell me about his. And he never laughed anymore either. So much of the man I'd fallen in love with had disappeared behind a thick wall of pain and guilt. I tried to be understanding and accepting. Everyone deals with grief differently, right? I knew my future husband was still in there somewhere. He just needed time to find his way back to the surface, back to me. What kind of person would I be to turn away the person I loved the most when he most needed me?

But time only seemed to make it worse. Despite all my efforts to help him, his grades dipped frighteningly low, and instead of putting any effort into it, he dropped out. Dropping out meant he couldn't stay in the dorms anymore, either, so I did what any good fiancée would do. I let him move in with me. He was supposed to get a job and get himself together so he would reapply next semester. He was supposed to buy his own groceries and sleep in the guest room. He was supposed to see a grief therapist and work on getting his life back together. He wasn't supposed to hurt me.

The first time was an accident. I believed it then, and to be perfectly honest, I still believe that. He was yelling, and I was yelling back. I'd had enough, and I wasn't going to let him go off on me anymore over things that weren't my fault. In my anger, I shoved him hard, pushing him out of my way as I stepped toward the door to leave. He reacted, reaching for my arm and gripping just a bit too tight. The second I winced, the moment he saw the shock and fear in my eyes, he let go. He muttered an apology, grabbed his keys, and left. Some people would say that only he was in the wrong, but I don't agree. We'd both raised a hand to each other that night, and we were both equally to blame. I ended up with a light bruise that was easily covered with a long-sleeved shirt. In fact, it had completely disappeared by the time I next saw him.

He came back a week later, and we never spoke of it again. What I didn't realize, though, was that a switch had flipped that night. Although his initial reaction was to hate himself for scaring me, for causing me physical harm, something ugly was awakened, and it wasn't going to go away. Before I knew it, he was criticizing my wardrobe, accusing me of flirting with other guys, and generally making my life miserable. Sometimes he'd get so mad about little things, like dishes left in the sink or a towel left on the bathroom floor, and I'd find myself scurrying around in a cleaning frenzy, trying desperately to avoid his wrath. He no longer sought to make me happy. No, now he got off on trying to intimidate and control me. I found myself yelling back, refusing to be the weak, cringing victim, and while it seemed to cut his tantrums short, it also seemed to make his next ones more frightening.

I tried to talk him into counseling, but he refused. So I went alone. My therapist was blunt, and he told me that despite our happy past, our relationship was toeing the line, hinging on abusive. I took him seriously, mentally mapping out an escape plan in case things ever truly did get out of hand. I didn't think it would ever come to that, but if he ever tried to hurt me or keep me against my will, I knew how to run, and I wouldn't be scared to do it.

And then it happened. I'd made a nice dinner, pathetically hoping our evening together would be equally nice. But he didn't come home, and I finally gave up, making him a plate and sticking it in the fridge. Maybe he could just eat it tomorrow while he was nursing his hangover. I went to bed, disappointed as always.

I was dead asleep when he crawled into bed with me, and it was in that hazy world somewhere between hopes and dreams that I found a temporary peace. He was going to cuddle with me like we used to, and it was with excitement and relief that I turned to kiss him. My fiancé, the man I loved, the man with whom I would spend the rest of my life had crawled from his dark grief and returned to me. But then I was hit by the stench of liquor, cigarettes, and what smelled like women's perfume. I turned away and scooted over to the far side of the bed, angry with myself for assuming the best, and angry with him for deserting me so completely. But something in him had snapped.

In one quick second, he yanked me back to him and crawled on top of me, clutching the neckline of my oversized t-shirt and tearing the front of it wide open. He straddled my waist, his full weight on my stomach making it difficult to breathe, and then I tasted blood. His mouth ground into mine with a force I knew would leave my lips split, swollen, and bruised. He grabbed my breasts roughly, pinching and squeezing hard enough to bring tears to my eyes as he shifted his weight to the side and with his other hand tried to pry my thighs apart. We'd agreed to wait until we were married. Once I'd admitted I was a virgin, he insisted that waiting would make it beautiful, give us that dream wedding night. I had agreed, not because I wanted to wait, but because it seemed so important to him. This, what was happening now, wasn't how it was supposed to be.

Something inside me snapped, too, and I began clawing at his face, kicking and screaming, fighting against him with everything I had. I was already resigned to the fact that I was going to lose my virginity in an act of violence instead of giving it to him out of love, but that didn't mean I had to make it easy for him. He struck me hard across the face with his half-closed fist, the heel of his palm smashing against my cheek, and his knuckles crashing into my eye. I twisted my body, jerking from side to side, anything to get away from that probing hand, and he fell to the side in a drunken haze, my body still pinned beneath one leg and his heavy shoulder. I shoved him away with all the strength I could muster, fueled mostly by adrenaline, and leapt over the footboard toward the door as he tumbled to the floor.

I was down the hallway and part way through the living room, running toward the door when my feet were yanked out from under me. It was so fast that I didn't even have time to try to break my fall, so I belly flopped onto the coffee table. The glass shattered beneath me, slicing into my stomach. He pulled roughly at my ankles dragging me backward through the broken glass as I dug my hands into the carpet, pulling with all my might to get away from him. I was screaming in fear and pain, kicking against his rough grasp, my heel finally making contact with his ear. He let out a load grunt, loosening his grip momentarily, and I jumped up, my head reeling from the sight and smell of all the blood. I was frantically pulling at the front door locks, my nails breaking and tearing in my frenzied rush, while he stumbled toward me again. I heard another crash as he presumably fell, but I didn't look back.

I'd just released the last latch when the door launched inward, smashing me in the shoulder and knocking me off my feet. I landed hard on my butt, gasping to replenish the oxygen that had been knocked from my lungs in the fall, and I let loose the loudest scream I could manage. In the next second he was on top of me again, his hands wrapped around my throat as I choked, gasping helplessly for air. As I clawed at his wrists and tried to twist my body away from him again, I felt a stabbing pressure in the side of my neck as his teeth tore into my skin. And then it was gone.

The next several seconds were pure chaos, and I curled up in a pathetic ball, clamping my hands over my ears and squeezing my eyes shut tightly. There was yelling and the sounds of things being smashed and shattered. I heard a sickening crunch, a strangled shriek, and pained grunts. There was shouting and cursing, and when a pair of small warm arms wrapped around my shoulders, I struggled to sit up, rearing back my fist. I readied to swing a punch, to escape whoever was grabbing me now, only to find myself staring into soft gray eyes teared up with worry and kindness.


	3. A Brave New World

**_It isn't for the moment you are struck that you need courage, but for the long uphill climb back to sanity and faith and security.  
_~Anne Morrow Lindbergh**

**Chapter Three: A Brave New World**

*FIVE YEARS LATER*

"Bella! Bella, I know you're in there!"

The pounding on the door was heavier now, and I wondered if the fists responsible for it were capable of breaking it down. Probably.

"Bella! You can't hide from me! Open this door right now!"

I turned the page in my book and tried to concentrate on the words.

"If you don't open this door in the next five seconds...!"

I groaned and got up from my comfy little loveseat. "Fine!" I huffed. I stomped through the living room and swung the door open, and the gust of wind that was Alice blew past me.

"Oh, please tell me you're not wearing that," she said, her eyes narrowing as she took in my ragged sweats and tank top. I knew the stains were just killing her.

"Actually, I am," I said smugly. "It's perfect for a nice quiet evening _in."_

"_In?_ But Bella, you promised," she whined.

"I did no such thing, Alice Brandon, and you know it."

"Well, you said 'Maybe,' and we both know that translates to 'Yes, absolutely.' So get dressed! We're leaving in five minutes." She crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot. I half expected her to call me "young lady" and threaten to take away my allowance.

Alice wanted to go to some hot new spot that had opened downtown. They served huge drinks and tiny meals, a strange combination of jazz bar and elite restaurant, and apparently that was something worth standing in line for. How I longed for a bucket of fried chicken.

"But I don't have anything to wear," I said, hoping that excuse that might work with her.

She rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically. "Then it's a good thing you have me!"

I should have known better. In the next second she was knee deep in my closet, clothes flying around her like a little human shaped tornado. "Here!" she squealed, holding out a cute black dress triumphantly.

"But that's not-" I stopped short. I'd been about to tell her it wasn't mine. For a second, I thought the sneaky imp had somehow slipped a new dress past me. But then I realized what it was. It was the dress I bought to wear to that fancy little restaurant, the one James had first taken me to in high school. When it came time to celebrate another chapter in our lives, I made reservations months in advance, thinking I was being sweetly sentimental. And here was my dress for that night, hanging there in its clear plastic bag. The tags still hung from the side, the paper yellowed and the ink faded with time, telling the sad story of reservations that had never been fulfilled.

"What's wrong?" Alice asked, her tiny features scrunching up in concern.

"N-nothing," I stuttered, reaching for the dress. "It's fine."

I knew she could tell it was anything but fine, but she knew me better than to pry. In the years since that awful night that Alice and I first met, things like this occasionally happened. Some place or some object would take me back in time for just a second, back to a time when James and I had everything together. Then I would give myself a good mental shake, square my shoulders, and face it head on. Tonight, I was facing this dress, and I was going to show it who was boss.

We missed our five minute deadline, but Alice didn't seem to mind. She was determined to get me out in public, and nothing could dissuade her. I endured her poking and pulling and prodding as long as I could, but when she pulled out the deep red lipstick, I begged for mercy.

"Oh, no, Alice. That's enough," I laughed.

"What?" she said, feigning innocence.

"Gloss for me, thanks."

"You're no fun, Bella," she pouted.

"No fun? What do you call torturing me for the last half hour?"

She giggled and grabbed my hand, pulling me toward the door. "Well come on then. Jasper's waiting!"

I blinked several times, willing my eyes to adjust to the low lighting. At first, I couldn't even tell if we were in a club or a closet, but as the host led us to a large u-shaped corner booth, I was able to make out a long bar along one wall and several small tables dotting the floor. The only lighting was provided by clusters of candles at each table and strips of red neon lining the stage, bar, and walls. There was a small stage housing a jazz band and an intimate dance floor just in front of it. The place was brimming with couples and I felt a pang of envy that I quickly pushed down. My single status was my own doing, not because what happened with James was my fault, but because of what had-or hadn't, as the case may be-happened since.

I was glad Alice had insisted on dressing me up. The club wasn't what I'd call fancy, but there was definitely a classy vibe going on. The men were all wearing dress slacks and nice button-up shirts, and a few were sporting suit jackets. The women were wearing everything from knee-length cocktail dresses to those slinky little dresses that can only be held in place with double-sided tape. My little dress wasn't anywhere near as fancy (or revealing), but I didn't look bad. It was knee length and sleeveless with a high scoop neck fitted bodice, a wide waist panel, and a slightly flared skirt. I'd felt a little like a subdued version of Audrey Hepburn when I'd tried it on in that little boutique so many years ago.

I'd dropped about fifteen pounds after James was... gone... mostly because I didn't feel like breathing, much less eating, but when I put the dress on tonight, I was pleased to see that I'd filled back out since then. Well, maybe 'filled out' wasn't the right term-genetics or just plain rotten luck had ensured I didn't quite do justice to anything that was meant to accentuate curves. But at least I wasn't scary-thin anymore.

It was cool out, so I paired it with a light cardigan that Alice simply shook her head at. She tried to talk me into a nice wrap instead, but when I slipped the sweater down and pulled my hair to the side, she clapped her hands and declared that the sweater was the perfect touch. Her eyes didn't even seem to register the scar, and I loved her even more for that.

Emmett slung one of his massive arms over my shoulder as we followed Alice and Jasper to our table. Emmett insisted he needed one of the outer seats so we wouldn't have to move out of his way when he wanted to get a drink. It was a poor excuse seeing as how we had a waiter offering to bring us anything we needed, but no one bothered to call him on it. Clearly Emmett just wanted an easy out if he saw a hot girl, and from the looks of things, we weren't going to be seeing a lot of Emmett tonight. I moved to slide in first, but Jasper slipped past me, scooting all the way to the back and pulling Alice into the seat beside him. That left me in the awkward spot of having way too much booth for one person. I sat down, keeping to the outside so as not to crowd them, but Alice motioned for me to slide closer to her. She claimed it was so she could hear me over the music, but I had the feeling she was full of it.

"Isn't this place amazing?" Alice cooed.

"Amazing," I said, rolling my eyes dramatically.

"Oh, come on Bella. Just try to have fun. Emmett, do something funny."

Her demand elicited the strangest expression from Emmett, and Alice and I burst into giggles.

Emmett raised an eyebrow and looked at Jasper. "Dude, they already hit the sauce, didn't they?"

His comment only served to make us laugh harder, and Emmett just shook his head at us. Just then, I felt the seat shift beside me, and I turned to see someone had joined us. It was usually Emmett and his sexy boyish grin that attracted uninvited guests, so I was surprised to see a pair of devilish green eyes staring into mine. In no mood for poor pick up lines, I opened my mouth to tell him off when his lips curved into a sexy crooked smile, and he extended his hand to me. Words failed me.

"You must be Bella," he said, his voice smooth and velvety. Any other woman would have melted at the sound, and I very nearly did, but I had been subjected to enough of Alice's attempts to set me up that I knew better than to trust a first impression. He probably had a foot fetish. Or a wife. Or a whole slew of STDs. He was absolutely dazzling. So he probably had all three.

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**There you have it. Mystery man revealed and new not-so-mystery man introduced.  
Now go review! :)**


	4. The Idiot

**Now let's see what a certain green-eyed not-so-mystery man has to say about his past, shall we?**

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_**With memory set smarting like a reopened wound, a man's past is not simply a dead history, an outworn preparation of the present: it is not a repented error shaken loose from the life:  
it is a still quivering part of himself, bringing shudders and bitter flavors and the tinglings of a merited shame.  
**_**~ George Eliot**

**Chapter Four: The Idiot**

It's a lot like the passenger pigeon. It was abundant at one time, long before I ever had a chance to know it. And then it was taken for granted and hunted down, wiped clear into extinction. The few that still have it will never let it go, or if they do, they will come to regret it. The rest of us look around, expecting and hoping to find it, but we never will. It simply doesn't exist anymore.

Like everyone else, I thought I found it in high school. It was my sophomore year, and she was the most beautiful creature I'd ever seen. When she smiled at me, it was like no one else in the world existed. And before I knew it, I'd given her my suicidal heart. She loved me, too, I thought. But it wasn't enough. It never is.

She was a year ahead of me in school, but that didn't matter. We dated the rest of that year and then the next. We spent every afternoon, every weekend, and a few stolen nights together. We were the golden couple, always happy, always devoted, always together. She graduated, and then summer came. It wasn't summer that changed us; rather what it signaled. The end.

She was going to take a year off, stay home until I graduated, and then we would go to Harvard. No, she didn't have the grades or the connections to get in the way I would, but she would go to a smaller, less prestigious school nearby. We spent the summer swimming and hiking and planning our future together.

She wanted an education, too, although it was her dream to be a stay at home mom. We'd graduate from college, and then she would work while I pursued medical school. I didn't want her to carry all of the burden, so we agreed that she would do something part-time and fun while I completed my residency. And then I would go into private practice in order to provide a big house for the three children for whom we'd already picked out names. Yes, I thought I was in love. Yes, I know that was stupid. And yes, summer ended, taking my dreams with it.

I could tell something was different, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Her smile wasn't as bright, her laughter not as musical, her eyes not as deep as they had once been. It was a beautiful sunny day when she told me. She had been accepted to an art school in California, and she wanted to go. I was floored, shocked by her secret, shocked that she had done all this behind my back, but most of all shocked that when I offered to go with her, she refused. She wanted to see what else life had to offer. I told her I could offer her everything and more. She simply laughed.

She left, and I began my last year of high school. At first, I didn't care about my grades, didn't care about getting into college, and certainly didn't care about moving on. But my older brother took it upon himself to throw a party and get me drunk, saying I needed to lighten up and put myself out there. So I did, chasing after it again.

She was sitting by herself on the bottom step, simply watching the dancing and drinking and general debauchery that was going on all around us. I was stumbling around and hoping to end up in a bathroom where I could puke up my guts in private when I tripped over her, nearly breaking my nose as I crashed face first on the stairs. But instead of laughing or rolling her eyes, she tugged until I was on my unsteady feet again and patiently led me out the front door…where I heaved the contents of my stomach all over Mom's flower bed. And when I could finally stand up again without retching, she was waiting with a wet dishtowel and a glass of water.

We dated the rest of my senior year, and though I wanted forever with her, I knew better than to sit down and plan our wedding just yet. We spent every second we could together, whether studying or sneaking off campus together at lunch, and it seemed that every day she got more and more perfect. We were careful, though, not making promises or talking too much about what would come after I graduated. Still, I hoped she was in it for the long haul, and I foolishly bet my heart on it.

Three weeks into my first semester of college, it all came crashing down. She was supposed to fly out to see me the next weekend, and I could hardly wait. I missed her so much, and being away from her was killing me. I'd finagled some of Dad's frequent flyer miles to get her a ticket, talked my roommate into spending the weekend anywhere else but our apartment, and made reservations at the most expensive restaurant I could find. I had it all planned out, and it was going to be perfect. And then the phone rang.

I was about to leave to pick up some flowers before I met her at the airport, and I almost didn't answer it. But at the last second I wondered if maybe her plane had landed early or she was delayed on a layover, so I ran back into my room and answered. She wasn't on the plane. She wasn't coming.

It seemed her father had been worried about her having a long distance relationship with a college boy while she was still in high school. It didn't matter that I'd asked him before I bought her ticket. It didn't matter that we loved each other and I needed to see her. It didn't matter that we _belonged_ together. The only thing that mattered was her father's opinion and the fact that I may as well have been a million miles away. It was over, and there was nothing I could do about it.

I met her at a bar during my second year at Harvard. I tried my best lines on her, turned on all my charms, even made sure she was more than a little tipsy, and she resisted me. But she couldn't resist fate. We'd run into each other at the coffee shop on campus. I would see her on the street. She asked me to dance when we were at clubs. But she wouldn't go home with me. It wasn't until I sent her roses every day for three solid weeks that she agreed to an actual date, and even then, I wasn't allowed a goodnight kiss.

I chased her for months, fending off other guys, arranging my schedule around hers, and doing anything I could to keep her attention. We went to concerts, we danced and cooked and worked out together. And finally, just when I was beginning to accept that I would forever be her shadow, she let me in.

We were perfect for each other, completing each other's thoughts, sharing the same dreams, and growing into a mature, stable, realistic relationship. We spent time together, yet gave each other space. We grew together, yet remained individuals. We meshed and flowed and simply fit.

I had finally found someone who cared enough to share in my dreams again, someone who appreciated me, someone who wanted a house and a family and a devoted husband. We moved in together just before I started medical school, sharing a cozy little apartment just off campus. My parents paid the rent so I could concentrate on my studies, and I was relieved because I didn't want her to have to work to support herself while I studied and went to class. She occupied her free time with friends and hobbies, and she never once complained that we didn't get enough time together. It would be three years before I found out why.

I had some kind of stomach bug. I'd barely gotten out of bed for three days, and she'd waited on me hand and foot. She kept me hydrated and medicated and resting, all the while smiling sweetly and saying she was glad to do it. But she had a doctor's appointment she couldn't miss, "female stuff" she explained, and I insisted I would fine for an hour or so. Four hours later, I woke up, and she wasn't home. Surprisingly, I was also feeling much better, albeit still weak, and I decided to step outside and get some fresh air for the first time in days. I wasn't feeling one hundred percent yet, so I couldn't go far, but it would be nice to sit in the sun on one of the benches in the little park at the end of the street. Apparently she thought it would be nice, too.

I ran home, drawing on what little strength I had left to carry me swiftly away from the unbelievable scene. She was there, she was smiling, she was pushing a little girl on a swing, and then she was kissing a woman. Not just a peck on the cheek or an oddly affectionate brush across the lips. No, this was _the_ kiss, the kind that inspired poetry and chick flicks, the kind I suddenly realized she'd never shared with me.

I didn't confront her or question her. I didn't beg or yell or throw her out. But the second she walked back in the door and saw me, she knew that I knew. I really didn't want to know anything more, but she forced me to listen anyway. I died a little more with each new detail about the six-year relationship she had with that woman, the child they planned together, the parents who wouldn't understand, and inevitably the ruse she employed, using me to meet society's standards while leaving her heart with someone else.

It was then that I realized that love, the kind of love in movies and books, the kind that people dream about and say they would die for does not actually exist anymore. It went the way of the passenger pigeon, something for the history books and museums, taking all hope for the rest of us with it.

* * *

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	5. The Return of the Native

_**It is not true that suffering ennobles the character; happiness does that sometimes, but suffering, for the most part, makes men petty and vindictive.**_**  
~ W. Somerset Maugham**

**Chapter Five: The Return of the Native**

Packing has got to be the most useless activity there is. Sure, I needed to pack everything so I could move it here, but it wasn't the least bit rewarding. To spend so much time putting everything I owned into boxes, just to unpack it a few days later seemed almost pointless. Mom had suggested letting the movers do it all for me, but I wasn't about to make that mistake again. When I'd first left for college, I'd taken the easy way out, allowing the moving company to come in and box up everything for me, too. Not only had I spent days sorting through the boxes (What possessed them to put a shower curtain, a stereo, seven shoes, and an empty McDonald's bag in the same box anyway?), but half my CD collection had gone missing by the time my things reached Boston. Oh, and I never did find the eighth shoe.

Of course, standing alone in an empty apartment, undoing all the work I'd done just days before, I was almost wishing I'd taken her advice anyway. CDs could be replaced. The hours I'd spent going through and bubble-wrapping every single thing I owned couldn't.

I couldn't get any non-hired help either. Dad, Emmett, and Jasper were all at work and Mom was at another charity meeting. The only person available was my sister Alice, and I valued my possessions too much. It's not that she was clumsy or careless. In fact, she was quite the opposite. But her need for fashion and design perfection would demand that most of my belongings end up in the nearest dumpster. No thanks.

I glanced at the clock. It was after four, so Dad was probably on his way home. That meant I could drop by my new job, meet a few people, and make sure my office was ready to move into, all without my father looking over my shoulder. I was sure everyone already knew I was his son, and if they didn't yet, the last name would be a dead giveaway. But hopefully I would have a chance to make my own impression first.

I took another look around my new apartment. It wasn't as large, but it was certainly better than what I'd had in Boston, and for half the price. Plus, it was across the street from the building where Alice and Emmett lived, so I'd be able to work on that whole mess.

It's not that we didn't get along or had some huge falling out. I just hadn't been around for a while. Whereas they had both gone to college in Washington, I'd defected to the East Coast. And between school, doomed relationships, and my career, the years had slipped by before I realized it. Of course, I had visited as often as I could, but even that became less and less. In fact, I hadn't even made it home for a holiday in at several years, and they'd simply taken to flying out to see me when they had a chance. Seeing them on an everyday basis was going to be nice, but definitely strange.

"Dr. Cullen," I repeated. No wonder she hadn't heard me the first time. She was too busy looking at me like I was something to eat, and it was beginning to get on my nerves.

"Cullen, you say? Did you know we have another Dr. Cullen here?"

I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes. "Yes, that would be my father," I said, allowing a bit of my irritation to seep into my tone.

"Oh," she said, clearly intimidated by my foul humor.

She hit some keys on the computer and stared at the screen for a minute as if she had never seen it before. Incredible. For an emergency room nurse, even if she was only at the reception desk, she had no sense of urgency.

"Do you need some help with that?" I asked in my most condescending tone.

"No...ah...I think I have it, sir...Doctor. Yes, it looks like your office will be just down this hall here and to your left. Right next door to Dr. Cullen. Ah...the other Dr. Cullen. I can show you if you like."

"That won't be necessary," I replied, already walking away.

"Eddie, my boy!" Dad exclaimed the second he saw me. Unfortunately, he had an entourage of other doctors with him who would now be thinking 'boy' instead of 'colleague' every time they saw me. A nurse pushing a cart toward them turned to look back at me but didn't stop.

I'd come in late in the afternoon, hoping he'd be too busy or maybe gone for the day. No such luck. I put on my best 'happy son' smile and walked over to them.

"Hi, Dad," I said.

"Gentlemen," he said, "This is my son Eddie."

"Edward," I corrected.

"Edward," he conceded. "And he's on track to become one of the finest surgeons in the state."

"That right, son?" asked one of the doctors, a short balding man who kept fiddling with his badge.

Wonderful. I wasn't 'Eddie' anymore. Now I was just 'son.' "I don't know about all that, but I'll give it my best," I said, trying to keep my tone light. I might get away with talking down to the nurses, but that would never fly with my new colleagues. And certainly not my father.

I stood there for a moment, feeling their appraisal and judgment, their wondering if I'd live up to my old man's name or if I was just going to ride his coattails as long as I could. "Well, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I need to get things set up in my office."

Their curious looks were puzzling until I realized that no one else this fresh on the job would have had his own office on his first day...not like this one anyway. A cubicle, maybe, or a glorified storage closet off the floor if he was lucky, but not an room actually intended as an office, complete with a door and a window and a nameplate. _Thanks a lot Dad. Now I'm definitely under scrutiny._

At least it wasn't too large. The generic beige walls and Berber carpet were practically sleep-inducing, and the old metal desk was nothing to brag about. I had a row of short file cabinets beneath a long window overlooking...was that the parking garage? Well, I definitely had an office, but I doubted anyone would be very envious. I sat down in the faux leather chair behind the desk. It squeaked.

Now, where to start? It looked like everything had already been emptied and wiped down. I immediately regretted having not brought my things in. I'd expected to have a little cleanup to do, maybe some of the previous inhabitant's knickknacks to throw away, some furniture to move around or even dig up out of storage. But clearly that had all been taken care of. I sighed.

I needed to do something to improve my mood. Moving here is what I wanted, I reminded myself. So why did I feel so empty? Time to call Emmett.

He answered on the first ring. "Hey baby bro!"

"I don't suppose you'd accept money to stop calling me that?" I asked.

"Not a chance, Eddie."

I groaned. That nickname was worse.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"I came in to check out my office today, but there's not really anything to do. Wanna get a drink?"

"Can't, dude. Alice is bugging me to go to some new place with her. Big prices, little portions, crappy music. You know how she is."

That I did. Our sister was a force of nature, and when her demands weren't met, she simply pouted until she got her way. She wasn't spoiled, per se. She was just very, very, _very_ persuasive.

"That's okay, man. Maybe next time," I said. Now what was I supposed to do? Half the point of moving home was to be near my family, but on my first full day back they already had plans without me. I supposed it shouldn't have been a surprise though. I'd been gone for nearly ten years. And I did have a lot of unpacking to do.

"Hey, why don't you join us? Jasper's coming, and Bella, too," he offered.

"Who's Bella?" I asked. If he was trying to push another one of his cast-offs on me, I was definitely staying in tonight. Emmett had a tendency to attract crazy women. Crazy, as in clinically insane. And once they found out he came from money, they were damn near impossible to get rid of. I'd dealt with a few borderline stalkers myself, and I was in no mood to go through that mess again.

"Neighbor girl," Emmett said. "She's real sweet."

"I don't think you and I have the same definition of sweet, Em," I said, remembering the last 'sweet' girl he'd tried to set me up with. She had been sweet for about the first fifteen drinks. Then she got a little loud, a bit violent, and somehow or another she wound up pointing a gun at us. Emmett was able to talk her down, so to speak, but I vowed then and there never to go near another woman he was cruel enough to set me up with

"No, man, she's not like that. I would _never_ go for her." Coming from Emmett, that was actually a compliment. "She's too nice. And she cooks. She works at a bookstore, and she hangs with us a lot 'cause she lives alone."

I wanted to ask more, like how many cats did she have and were the kids in the neighborhood afraid of her, but I knew Emmett. The description I'd just gotten was about as detailed as he was capable of.

"Okay, but on one condition," I said.

"Sure, wingman, anything."

"It's not a date. I don't need you hooking me up with some frumpy librarian. I can manage just fine on my own, and I don't need your spinster friend getting in my way if I meet someone."

That got a good laugh out of him, but he agreed. I had a brief flashback of the whole gun thing, but shook it off. I knew I'd be bored out of my mind if I stayed in, and I really needed to get laid.

* * *

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	6. Resurrection

_**"...'tis misfortune that awakens ingenuity, or fortitude, or endurance, in hearts where these qualities had never come to life but for the circumstance which gave them a being."  
**_**~William Makepeace Thackeray**

**Chapter Six: Resurrection**

It had started about a year after the night Emmett had kicked in my door and beaten James to a pulp, and it had gotten exponentially worse after Alice found Jasper, a.k.a. her 'soul mate.' Alice and I would go somewhere, and a not-so-random guy would just happen to show up. The first couple of times I wrote it off as an unfortunate coincidence. But after about a dozen of these encounters, I'd called her out on it. She didn't bother to deny it and, worse yet, she refused to stop. So for the past four years I'd been awkwardly making excuses, giving out fake phone numbers, and feigning headaches to avoid the seemingly unending supply of single male friends Alice had collected.

I shot a look at Alice, but her expression was the epitome of innocence. I couldn't tell if it was an act or not, so I went with not. "How could you?" I whispered angrily, knowing better than to expect an answer.

She shrugged and smiled, and I turned back to the stranger. His hand was still held out to me.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I said, hastily reaching to shake his hand. In my rush, I bumped my wine glass, nearly tipping it over, but Emmett caught it just in time, only a few red drops splashing against the crisp tablecloth. He smirked and nodded in the direction of the man sitting next to me.

"I'm sorry," I said again. I sounded like a damned parrot. "I didn't know anyone was joining us." I didn't want to be rude, but I wanted to make it more than clear that I had had nothing to do with any of this.

Jasper coughed and Alice shifted uncomfortably beside me. A flash of something I couldn't identify shot through the stranger's incredibly green eyes, but he quickly regained his composure and smiled.

'I'm Edward," he said.

He looked down at our still joined hands, and I blushed, dropping my hold instantly. I instantly missed the electrified heat of his touch. Emmett choked on his beer. How long had I been holding his hand? His beautiful, masculine hand… I gave myself a mental shake, bringing myself back to the reality that this was a set up, and I should be irritated. And, boy was I irritated.  
"It's nice to meet you," I said in spite of my annoyance. They'd all been in on this. Alice, Jasper, and Emmett had dragged me all the way across town just to trap me in a booth with a man I didn't know, and I'd had just about enough. I would politely endure the rest of the evening, but I would not be playing into their hands again. I'd simply become a hermit, leaving my apartment for work and groceries only. Or maybe I could just have my groceries delivered. Do stores even do that anymore? And if Alice wanted to pound on my door daily, that was her problem.

"I've heard a lot about you," he said, carrying forward with our clichéd introduction.

"Really?" I asked, sneaking another look at my "friends." I should have known better. Emmett just grinned and waggled his eyebrows. Seriously? The eyebrow thing? I considered overturning my wine, on purpose and right in his lap this time, but I had the feeling he'd just make me pay for it ten-fold.

"Yes," Edward said. "I hear you're one of Alice's shopping victims."

Okay, I'd have to be dead not to laugh at that one. Having been subjected to five years worth of Alice's insane shopping excursions, I was definitely what you'd call a victim. And I could add matchmaking to the list of her crimes against me as well.  
Before long, Edward and I were chatting comfortably while Alice and Jasper took a few turns on the tiny dance floor. Emmett had long since disappeared, having spotted what I had to admit was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. If I'd been looking to hook up tonight, the mere sight of her would have had me mentally tallying the price of plastic surgery. She was that stunning. And so was the man I was talking to.

He had that artfully disheveled look, the kind some people spend hours in front of the mirror trying to achieve. Maybe that was his major flaw…two hours in the bathroom with a gallon of hair gel before going out in public. His dark hair seemed to have a bit of a bronze tint to it, and I couldn't tell if it was real or just a result of the warm lighting. When he smiled, his eyes crinkled up, leaving nothing to be seen except that piercing green, brighter than I would have thought possible. Probably spent thousands on that smile. His laugh was gentle, quietly rumbling in his chest and doing everything to accentuate his glorious pecs. Dammit! I had to hand it to Alice. Even if this guy turned out to be a complete ass, he was fun to look at. Yes, folks, I believe we have a winner. The genetic lottery goes to Edward.

Fortunately, conversation with him was easy and relaxed, even the little moments of silence feeling natural and not at all awkward. Without realizing it, I'd begun telling him more about myself than anyone really needed to know, and it never dawned on me until later that he spoke very little about his own life. We were getting along swimmingly until he leaned toward me, his voice low, and asked, "So tell me, Bella. Are you seeing anyone?"

Of course I had to panic. A rational woman would have simply answered the question and found out where it led her. But Bella Swan, walking disaster, had to analyze it to death. I couldn't date him. Maybe I could sleep with him…maybe. But I couldn't date him. Dating would mean feelings and commitments and all the things I was doing just fine without. But how does someone go about asking for sex? Hey, I know we just met, but you're really hot, and I was wondering if you'd help me out because I know I'm destined to be alone, but I want to have sex before I die. Ummmm…no. Definitely not the way to go. I guessed I should just stick with the whole no dating thing and deal with it.

His eyes sparkled with hope, but I had no place in my life for expectations. Expectations are pointless. They let you down. They hurt.

"I don't date," I said, trying to sound polite but unwavering.

He looked surprised, but undeterred. "And why is that?" he asked with a smirk.

"I'm just not interested," I replied.

"I see," he said. He looked like he was about to say something else, and I really wasn't in the mood to explain myself, so I chose that moment to make my escape to the ladies room. I needed a minute to collect myself anyhow. I was getting along with him way too well, and my practical mind was screaming with resistance.

I splashed some water on my face, hoping Alice wouldn't kill me for removing the thin layer of powder she'd insisted on applying. Looking in the mirror, I took stock of myself. I looked tired, and I suppose I was.

Mrs. Schaeffer, who owned the bookstore I managed hadn't been doing well lately, and it had fallen to me to take on more than just my normal responsibilities at work. I'd also been checking in on her regularly, helping her with laundry, cleaning, and meals. She had no family that I knew of, and the homecare nurse the hospital had sent her home with couldn't keep up with everything on her own. I was down to about five hours of sleep a night, not counting the three nights I'd spent at the hospital when she'd first suffered her mini-stroke. It had been a long couple of weeks, and all I really wanted to do was go home and crash.

I pushed my hair out of my face and washed my hands, then pulled the heavy door to go back, hoping I could convince Alice to call it a night. I couldn't help but wish I'd thought to drive myself. At least then I could have left without argument. I stepped back into the dark hallway, carefully keeping my eyes on the floor so as not to take one of my famous falls when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned, expecting Alice or Emmett, maybe Japer, or even the chiseled perfection that was Edward. But there in front of me stood James, as handsome as ever.

My hand flew to my mouth as I gasped in surprise. I instinctively stepped back, gracelessly colliding with the wall behind me and stumbling in my impossibly high heels. Just as my nose was about to smash into the floor, my arm was caught in his strong grip, and I was pulled to my feet.

"James!" I choked out, half saddened, half terrified. He let go of my arm, and I absently rubbed the spot where his fingers had curled around to stop my fall. His touch had been gentle, not at all like in my nightmares, and my mind didn't know how to react.

His eyes were…understanding. "You look beautiful," he said quietly.

"I—I didn't expect…What are you doing here?" I asked.

"If I said 'Hoping to see you,' would that be too weird?" he asked with a tentative smile.

What was I supposed to say to that? Yes, it was weird. It was weird and creepy and surreal. My heart ached and my thoughts raged.

"I'm sorry, Bella," he said. "I didn't mean to scare you. I was really just here to apply for a job. I tried calling you, but I guess you have a different number now?"

I stood there, staring mutely at him. He was out? Why hadn't I been notified? Why was he being so…nice? He looked older, but that made sense considering how long it had been. His long dark blond hair had been cut close, and he'd shaved recently, something he never did on a regular basis before. His face was the same, a little thinner, maybe, but his eyes…his eyes looked so much older than I remembered.

"Anyway," he continued, "I'd really like to talk to you sometime…if you want to, of course. I understand if you don't. I'm listed, so you can just call me if…you know…"

He looked like he wanted to hug me or something, but his gaze fell on my hand, still rubbing the spot where he'd touched me, and he must have thought better of it. "Okay, then, maybe I'll see you around."

I stood there, frozen in place, as he walked away. When reached the end of the hall, he turned, his eyes meeting mine, silently voicing a thousand regrets, and then he disappeared into the oblivious crowd.

"There she is," Jasper announced playfully as I returned to our table. He and Alice had apparently returned from their dancing to keep Edward company.

"And here we were taking bets," Alice added.

"Bets?" I asked, still a little stunned. Edward had risen so I could slide back into the booth, but I didn't move. I just stood at the edge of the table.

"Yes," Edward said. "The consensus was that you'd crawled out a window and made your escape." He hit me with that crooked smile again, but this time I didn't feel it.

"Escape…" I echoed. I felt like I was in a fog, the voices around me muffled.

"Are you okay?" Edward asked, the expression on his perfect face changing quickly from amusement to concern.

"Yes," I answered without thinking. "I have to go home."

They all stared at me for a few uncomfortable seconds, but then Alice, true to form, came to my rescue.

"You and your bedtime, Bella. I swear I'll keep you out past ten one of these days, and you'll enjoy it!" she laughed.

It was clear Jasper didn't understand, but to his credit he played along. "I'm sorry, Eddie, but we do have to get her back before she turns into a pumpkin."

Jasper and Alice slid out of the booth while I stared at my feet, suddenly fascinated by my own toes. Edward stepped forward, as if to walk us out, but I cut him off.

"It was nice meeting you," I said flatly.

"Ah…yeah," he muttered.

I hurried outside, where Alice and I waited while Jasper tracked down Emmett.

"Did something happen?" Alice asked me. Damn her and her crazy ability to read me.

"No, I'm just tired," I said.

I knew it was a weak excuse, and she knew I was lying, but she didn't press the issue. And after a tensely quiet ride home, I craved nothing more than my soft, warm bed.

* * *

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	7. Concerning Human Understanding

**_Men in general judge more from appearances than from reality. All men have eyes, but few have the gift of penetration._**  
**~ Machiavelli**

**Chapter Seven: Concerning Human Understanding**

It took opening nearly every box I had, but I finally found what I was looking for: a pair of black slacks and a thin cable knit sweater in dark green. Yes, I knew exactly what it did for my eyes, and I was counting on it. If things went my way, Emmett's librarian wouldn't be interested in me either, and I'd be free to find someone more appealing to keep me company.

The drive to the restaurant was excruciating. Traffic sucked, and Emmett's ridiculous directions only made it worse. I nearly turned to go back home several times, but I knew I'd get an earful from Alice if I did.

I hoped this girl wasn't expecting anything from me. I'd really have preferred to 'go on the hunt' with Emmett. There were always plenty of attractive, willing women anywhere there was music, and I didn't need some desperate woman holding me back. To say it had been too long would be putting it mildly, and I was ready for the dry spell to be over.

I finally spotted the place and drove around for a bit looking for a secure parking garage. The one I found was three blocks away and cost twenty bucks, but it was safe for overnight parking. And if I was lucky, I wouldn't be going home tonight.

I'm supposed to be meeting someone," I said.

"Name?" the host asked.

"I'm not sure. Alice or Emmett Cullen? Or Jasper Hale?"

"In the corner booth," he said, pointing to the farthest and darkest corner of the room.

I threaded through the romantic tables for two, mentally kicking myself for agreeing to this. An evening out with Alice, Emmett, and Jasper could be fun. An evening with whatever charity case they'd dragged along might not be.

Jasper and I had been friends since pre-school. Careful planning on the parts of our mothers had ensured we'd been on the same tee-ball team, attended the same prep school, and finally gone off to the same college. I secretly suspected that they'd wished one of us had been born female so they could just arrange a marriage while they were at it, but then he started dating my sister, and that seemed to pacify them.

Alice and Jasper weren't living together yet, but according to Emmett's disturbing reports, they might as well be. Of course, I supposed if anyone was right for Alice, it was my best friend. He was kind and unassuming, and obviously a very patient man if he could love my crazy sister.

And now Emmett had rather obviously tried to set me up with one of Alice's friends. From the moment Jasper and Alice began dating, it had been Alice's personal mission was to make me as annoyingly happy as she was, even from across the country. She was not going to be pleased if she thought Emmett had succeeded in dragging me out for a pity date where she had always failed. I could see her now, a small, mousy woman with pallid skin and an empty expression, more interested in Victorian romances than modern dating. With my luck she'd be wearing comfortable shoes and a shapeless cardigan. I hoped Emmett had made it clear that I was flying solo tonight.

I spotted Emmett's gigantic form immediately. He was built like a brick wall, and even the corner booth in a room this dark did nothing to conceal him. Jasper and Alice were sitting close together in the back of the booth, and my would-be-date was talking to Alice, her back toward me so I couldn't see her featureless face. She was even wearing a sweater, though it wasn't quite the frumpy gray librarian type I had pictured in my mind. I slid in to the seat beside her, scowling at Emmett. He just grinned like the idiot he often was. And then she turned to me.

For the first time since…well, as far back as I could remember, I was nearly struck speechless by a woman. She was not at all what I expected. She was short and pale, and she wore very little makeup. She was no beauty queen, but she wasn't quite the repulsive recluse I'd expected.

"You must be Bella," I said holding my hand out to her and forcing a friendly smile.

Shock flickered in her eyes, followed by understanding, then…anger? She turned quickly to Alice and whispered something. Alice shrugged, and then Bella's eyes were on me again.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, reaching to shake my hand and accidentally hitting her wine glass in the process. I didn't react quickly enough to catch it, but Emmett did. "I'm sorry," she said again. She sounded nervous. "I didn't know anyone was joining us."

I heard Jasper cough conspicuously, and Alice started glaring daggers at me. Something wasn't right here, and it wasn't just that I was surprised by Bella's appearance. Emmett hadn't even told Bella I was coming. And Alice? Well, I wasn't sure what her problem was. Sure, I wasn't there for Bella, but now what would she think? I would definitely have to kill him.

'I'm Edward," I said.

I couldn't help but notice the way her hand looked as it held mine. Small and delicate, almost breakable. Her eyes followed my gaze, and she suddenly dropped her hold. I looked back up to see the most curious blush blaze across her cheeks.

"It's nice to meet you," she said.

Time flew by as we ate and talked. She was practically an open book, what I couldn't glean from her words, I could read in her eyes. She wasn't beautiful in the classic sense of the word, but there was something about her that made me look a little closer. Her milky complexion perfectly complimented her soft brown eyes. They were the color of melted chocolate, warm and deep, and framed with thick dark lashes. Her dark brown hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders, and her bottom lip was just a bit plumper than her top. When she laughed, her eyes lit up, and when she got excited, she talked with her hands. Occasionally, her smooth cheeks were kissed with a creamy pink, and I found I had to stop myself from reaching over and touching her. I was sure it was just the shock of it, finding someone so…different when I was expecting someone so…typical.

There was something about her that was so… _real_. I found myself watching her intently, dissecting every decision, every movement, every inflection in her voice. She looked disappointed when she saw the menu. She ordered steak and skipped the salad. Then she looked even more disappointed when the tiny little steak arrived, arranged neatly in the center of the oversized square plate. She talked between bites, politely covering her mouth but not afraid to speak while she chewed. She leaned over to Alice occasionally, teasing, whispering, laughing. She pointed out the blonde that Emmett was now sitting at the bar with. When he hesitated, she actually threatened to kick his ass.

She was so different from what I was used to. She wasn't dressed to outshine anyone, and nothing about her screamed 'I'm trying to make a good impression.' In fact, the more I watched her, the more I _saw _her. I saw her intelligence, her humor, her kindness. She was easygoing and friendly, passionate about the things she spoke of, comfortable to be around, and so easy to talk to. When I let it slip that I was a doctor, something I _never_ tell women, she looked surprised. But instead of telling me how impressed she was, or commenting on how rewarding my work must be, she simply laughed and said she could never have lived through four more years of school.

She'd been raised in a small town, but she was comfortable in the city. Her eyes took on a fierceness when she spoke of her father, the kind that comes from pure love and devotion. I found myself wondering why she was subjecting herself to what could only be called a blind date, when any number of men should have been clamoring to go out with her. She was that girl, the one who should have married her high school sweetheart and lived in a little cottage behind a white picket fence. She wasn't right for me at all, but surely there was someone out there who should have snatched her up by now.

She'd moved here to go to college and had graduated a semester early. She thought about being a writer, but decided to help a friend and surround herself with her favorite books instead. Now she was working in a little independently owned bookstore, and it was clear from the way she spoke of it that she loved what she did.

I found myself trying to absorb every detail…the way her hands moved when she was excited, the way her voice sadly lowered when she spoke of home, the way her simple black dress clung to her small figure beneath the demure little sweater she wore. When she spoke of reading, of books, of writing, her soft brown eyes sparkled and her voice took on a passionate tone. She was open and honest and forthcoming. She was unlike anyone I'd ever met.

"So tell me, Bella, are you seeing anyone?" I finally asked, trying to keep my tone light. It went against everything in me to ask that question. Women usually made their availability pathetically obvious around me. But this wasn't for me. I had no designs on her. I wasn't even sure why I was asking, just that it mattered. Perhaps we could be friends, since it was obvious neither of us was interested in more.

Her eyes clouded over, darkening suddenly, and I wondered if I'd misread her completely. She's seemed open and friendly, and clearly she was friends with the rest of my family. Why was her relationship status off limits? Friends could ask about that, right? Or maybe she didn't see me as a friend. Fuck. What if she thought I was interested in more than that?

"I don't date," she said, sticking out her chin in confident defiance.

Technically I didn't date either, but I had the feeling we weren't talking about the same thing. "And why is that?" I asked, a little surprised, a little amused. Leave it to Emmett to try to set me up with a woman I didn't want, who didn't want to date, and who didn't seem willing to entertain the idea.

"I'm just not interested," she said. Her voice had become cold, and she was avoiding my eyes.

"I see."

I didn't see, but her message was unmistakable. She was telling me to back off, and I had no idea why. We'd been getting along, and she seemed to like me well enough. Hell, I'd even told her I was a doctor. No, I wasn't so much of an ass that I expected her to kneel and worship me or anything, but that info had done wonders in the past.

"Excuse me," she said, suddenly sliding closer to me and looking at me expectantly.

Oh shit. So she _was_ interested? But she said…

"I need to go to the ladies room."

Oh. So that expectant look was just her needing me to move so she could get up. She wore an odd expression, and it seemed her skin had gone from milky white to ghostly pale in the span of one second.

"Of course," I said, standing up quickly and reaching out a hand to help her up.

She looked everywhere except directly at me, and she ignored my gesture, pushing herself off the seat instead and walking away without so much as a word.

My eyes lingered on the entry to the hallway where she'd disappeared. Still wondering what the hell had just happened, I turned down the several women who approached me. But after at least ten minutes of sitting pathetically alone, I was starting to get annoyed. Finally Jasper and Alice noticed my solitude and took pity on me.

"Scared her off?" Jasper laughed.

"I think so," I said.

He stopped laughing and gave me a weird look. "Seriously?"

"I think so, man. I don't know where I went wrong, but she just went cold all of the sudden. I think she's in the restroom right now."

"Maybe I should go check on her," Alice offered.

"No, let her be," Jasper said. "She's probably on her way over here now."

"But what if she's really upset?" Alice asked, scowling at me.

"Hey, don't look at me," I said. "I didn't do anything."

"Twenty bucks says she's climbing out the bathroom window right now," Jasper said.

"That's it. I'm going to check on her," Alice announced.

"Not so fast," Jasper said, nodding at something.

I looked up, and there was Bella, looking completely dazed.

"There she is," Jasper said with a welcoming smile toward her.

"And here we were taking bets," Alice teased.

"Bets?" Bella asked. She looked like she wasn't even paying attention.

"Yes," I said. "The consensus was that you'd crawled out a window and made your escape." Maybe joking about her long absence would snap her out of this haze she was in.

"Escape…" she said quietly, as if she was talking to herself.

Clearly that didn't work. "Are you okay?" I was actually starting to get a little concerned.

"Yes. I have to go home," she said quickly. She wasn't really looking at me. She was looking _through_ me.

There were a few seconds of awkward silence before Alice jumped in. "You and your bedtime, Bella. I swear I'll keep you out past ten one of these days, and you'll enjoy it!"

"I'm sorry, Eddie, but we do have to get her back before she turns into a pumpkin," Jasper said.

The awful nickname barely registered. Something was very wrong with this woman, and I was starting to feel relieved that she was leaving. Whatever weird shit she had going on, I didn't want to be involved.

I stood up to walk her out, wondering how I was going to brush her off without adding to whatever agony she was already suffering.

"It was nice meeting you," she said, stopping me in my tracks.

So it's like that, is it? I didn't even have a chance to respond before she bolted for the door, Alice on her heels.

"What the hell was that?" I asked Jasper.

"I have no idea," he said, shaking his head. "She really is a great girl, Ed. She's just…well, she'd been through some stuff."

I definitely didn't want to be mixed up in that. "Okay, I'm out of here. Tell Emmett not to throw me any more bones, okay?"

I headed for the coat check where the woman at the counter seemed more interested in getting me than getting my coat. She was small and pale like Bella, but not nearly as…Bella.


	8. Dead Souls

_**How blessed are some people, whose lives have no fears, no dreads, to whom sleep is a blessing that comes nightly, and brings nothing but sweet dreams.  
**_**~Bram Stoker**

**Chapter Eight: Dead Souls**

**4:38 AM**  
I sighed and turned over, trying to get comfortable. I'd closed my eyes hours ago, but my brain was still spinning at warp-speed.

James.

He'd been arrested that night. How Emmett didn't land himself in cuffs, too, I'll never know. I'd been trying to run, fumbling with the abundance of locks on my front door when it flew open. James was on me again, this time ensuring I would have a scar that would be harder to hide, when Emmett barreled in, ripping James off me and tearing into him with a fury I wouldn't have believed if I hadn't witnessed it. Profanities and insults, mostly directed at me, tumbled from his mouth until Emmett's giant fists broke his jaw. Alice held me, curled up on the floor and shaking, until the police arrived. Several anxious weeks later, James was in prison, awaiting sentencing as I tried to rebuild my life. My bruises had faded, my stitches had been removed, the swelling in my face had disappeared, and I was sleeping on Alice's sofa.

**4:52 AM**  
They say there's a silver lining in every dark cloud. Who 'they' are, I don't know, and I wonder if they've ever had to face the kind of storm I dealt with, but it doesn't change the fact that they're right. Although I would give anything to go back and erase that night, I did manage to walk away with two of the best friends a girl could ask for. More importantly, I'd managed to walk away.

Alice lived in a smaller apartment next door to Emmett. Hers was a two bedroom, and one of those bedrooms functioned as her ever-growing closet. Emmett was Alice's older brother, and he lived right across the hall from me in another corner apartment that was a mirror image of mine. Except I didn't have a giant TV, neon beer signs, or an endless line of lithe blondes going in and out. I'd once asked Alice why she and Emmett didn't just save money by sharing a place, and I swear neither of them had stopped laughing for an entire week.

I was enough of a homebody and not enough of a fashionista that I probably never would have met Alice if not for that night. As for Emmett, I'd seen him a few times in the elevator, but he'd always had a super-model look-alike draped over him, so the opportunity for a proper introduction had never been there.

But then they both came crashing, quite literally, into my life, and although the circumstances had been horrific, I could only be grateful that they had. I shudder to think about what my fate might have been if Emmett hadn't heard me screaming.

**5:17 AM**  
And now James was back. He looked almost the same, though there was sadness in his eyes that hadn't been there before. Memories of everything we shared washed over me in a suffocating wave of sorrow, and I curled up, clutching a pillow to my chest, wondering what it all meant.

Could we go back? Could we be to each other what we'd been before everything had gone so wrong? Was it wrong of me to want that again?

It's not like I had been waiting for him. I hadn't. In fact, I'd done everything I could to prove that I wasn't waiting for him, that I had a new life now. I'd removed every trace of him from my apartment, boxing up the few belongings he'd left behind along with all the souvenirs of our relationship. There were so many memories to erase that I'd had to rent a storage unit for them all, and when I returned home I realized my apartment was practically bare. I'd purchased a new bed, taken the rug he'd tripped over to Goodwill, repainted every room just for good measure, and bought knickknacks galore to fill the now empty shelves where our photos and memories had been. I'd visited my mom for a week in Florida, stayed at my dad's for nearly a month in Forks, even tried dating for about a while-until it became painfully clear that it was pointless.

**5:38 AM **  
And then tonight happened. I hadn't expected him. It had only been five years, and he hadn't contacted me since about six months after his sentencing. The judge said he wasn't allowed to contact me at all, but a counselor at the prison asked if I would be agreeable to receiving one letter from him. I wasn't sure I wanted to hear whatever he had to say, but she told me it was part of his therapy, to admit his transgressions and make amends. In the end, my curiosity won, and I'd agreed. In it, he'd admitted to all his wrong-doings, from pushing me away when he was grieving to taking out his anger over the loss of his mother on me. He'd even admitted to putting a huge scratch in my hardwood floor-I'd been wondering how that got there-and getting so drunk at a party in high school that he'd kissed another girl while I was puking up my guts in the bathroom. The worst part was that he admitted to really cheating on me-numerous times-with some skank he met at a bar while he was 'going through his bad time.' I felt like the world's biggest fool for trying to help him while he was helping himself into another woman's bed.

Only Alice knew about the letter. She'd come over one afternoon, and it was obvious I'd been crying. I just handed it to her and watched as she read it. She didn't say anything. She just walked across the room, dropped it in the fireplace, and handed me a box of matches. Afterwards, we went out for ice cream, and made ourselves sick on the biggest, messiest sundaes we could buy.

**6:30 AM**  
The alarm sounded all too soon, but I've noticed that tends to happen when you only get an hour of sleep. The sunrise was a welcome relief nonetheless. It meant I could put my mind to work on other things and bury the whole James issue for a while.

"Mrs. Schaeffer?" I called as I entered the old house. I inhaled deeply. Mmmm. Her house always smelled of cinnamon. Maybe she'd done a lot of baking back in the day and the scent had clung to the walls.

"Is that you, dear?" I heard a shaky voice respond.

I had to stifle a giggle. Is that you? Technically, anyone could have answered that one with a yes and it would have been the truth. "Yes, ma'am," I answered cheerfully. Stopping by meant having to leave my apartment an hour early each morning, but it really was the best part of my day.

"Did you see the paper, dear?" she asked, her favorite daily question. I didn't imagine it would ever occur to her that my answer was always the same.

"No," I replied, waiting for my daily dose of news, Schaeffer-style.

"There was another mugging. You have to be careful, a pretty girl like you all alone. Maybe you should get a dog. Dogs are good protection. I had a cocker spaniel once…pretty little thing he was. I named him Henry after my first beau…"

I nodded and mmhmm'd in all the right places as I picked through her mail, tossing out all the advertisements and lining up her bills. She carried on as I wrote out her checks and filled in the register. I couldn't subtract them from the balance because she'd never written it down, but at least nothing had bounced yet. She didn't even stop talking as I had her sign the checks I'd written, and I noticed she hadn't paid attention to the amounts or recipients. I shook my head, sadly realizing how easy it would be for someone to take advantage of her trust. I'd have to call her lawyer again and see if he had any advice. But for now I just moved on to pour her a cup of coffee and start on the dishes. How one woman managed to dirty up a soup tureen, three platters, and about a dozen plates in a single day I couldn't even begin to guess, but I'd learned not to ask.

"…and he's so handsome. I imagine the society pages will be filled with pictures of him before long. He came back to work with his father. You know, the doctor?" she babbled.

"Oh, yes. That is interesting," I replied. As if there was only one doctor in town.

"He's quite a catch. Oooooh! Maybe the next time you go to the emergency room…"

I fought the urge to roll my eyes at that one, mainly because she was right. Trips, falls, and a myriad of other accidents had made me a frequent visitor to the Virginia Mason Medical Center since moving to Seattle. Alice and Emmett's father was the Chief of Staff there, and he joked that he saw more of me than his own children. It was so bad that I was on a first name basis with many of the other staff there as well, and I'd even received Christmas cards from no less than four of the doctors. Personal ones with pictures of their kids and pets. While my frequent faller status at the hospital was embarrassing, it had at least afforded me the right to skip the stack of required forms for each visit. Sadly, they all had my insurance information memorized.

I was done with the dishes, and I'd put out fresh cat food for Mrs. Schaeffer's dozen or so furry friends. It always made me laugh a little. She really was one of those cat ladies everyone jokes about.

I sighed. At the rate things were going, that would be me in a few years. Completely alone, a bunch of cats, and watching Matlock before going to bed at eight o'clock every evening.

"Okay, Mrs. Schaeffer. I've got to get to the store now, but I put some leftover roast and vegetables in the fridge for you. No using the stove for lunch today, okay? I've already set the microwave, so just put it in there and press start. I'll stop by on my way home and we can go over the accounts."

'Going over the accounts' was my excuse to stop by every afternoon, just as I 'stopped in for coffee' every morning. She never did notice that I didn't actually drink coffee and I never brought any accounting paperwork from the store with me. I gathered up her outgoing mail, crouched to pet a friendly tabby that was weaving around my legs, and headed out the door.

I was glad she lived only two blocks from the store. It made my daily stops at her house an easy part of my routine and gave me an excuse to get some exercise. I still had my old truck, but with only three blocks between my place and hers, and the even shorter distance from her house to the store, it hardly made sense to drive to work. Walking to work was the norm in this neighborhood, and the sidewalks were filled with business suits and briefcases. I thought I saw James across the street, heading in the opposite direction, but by the time I had the nerve to take a second look, whoever it was had turned the corner. I pulled my sweater tightly around my shoulders to block out the wind and trudged on.

* * *

**Now...let's hear your thoughts on our sweet little Mrs. Schaeffer...And I also want to know where you think James is going to fit into the story. Some of you have some rather interesting theories!  
**


	9. Tramp Abroad

_**There's none so blind as they that won't see.  
**_**~JohnathanSwift**

**Chapter Nine: Tramp Abroad  
~Edward**

I woke up to the sound of running water and a splitting headache. I rolled over to peek at the time and-what the hell?

Instead of my simple but functional alarm clock flashing the time in glowing red, I was faced with something that appeared to be a giant cartoon cat with an overgrown head and hot pink, glittery numbers on its belly. I groaned as I looked around the room. Pink ruffled curtains, pink comforter, pink shag rug. It kind of look like a giant bottle of pepto had exploded. Only the giant pile of stuffed animals by the window remained untouched. Just how much had I had to drink last night?

I groaned and pulled a pillow over my head. I remembered dinner, nice conversation with a nice girl who then turned completely weird, everyone leaving… Somehow that had been followed with drinking and dancing and stumbling down the sidewalk with…coat check girl? I heard the creak of old metal fixtures followed by silence as the water shut off, and I realized I had two choices: awkward morning after or get the hell out of there. I pulled on my jeans as fast as I could, electing to save a few precious seconds by just carrying my shoes. Pulling my shirt over my head as I sprinted out the door, I made my escape and breathed a heavy sigh of relief as my bare feet touched down upon the cool, grimy sidewalk.

I stopped at the corner about a block away and sat down on the curb to put on my socks and shoes. I got some strange looks from a few people, but as long as I was out of pink ruffled hell, I was happy. I had no idea where my car was, and it looked like I was about ten blocks from home. I had a long walk ahead of me.

My thoughts drifted back to the night before. Last night had been…interesting. Bella was not at all what I expected, really, and I had to admit I liked her company. I was actually glad there wasn't any chemistry between us. It was nice to have someone just to talk to, someone who wasn't concerned with impressing people, moving up the ladder at work, or furthering their social status. Besides, I'd bedded a few of Alice's friends over the years, and it had never turned out well. I still didn't get why Bella had done a one-eighty last night, though. Out of nowhere, she'd closed off, becoming distracted and distant all of the sudden. She probably had baggage, and if there was one thing I had learned, it was to stay away from women with baggage.

Coat check girl had been a fun distraction, but I certainly hadn't meant to spend the night. Staying over was against the rules. It complicated things, led them on, made them think I had changed my mind even though I'd told them I wasn't into relationships. It wasn't that I made a habit of one night stands. In fact, it had probably been over a year since I'd found myself in one, but on the rare occasion that it happened, I'd always been careful to keep it business-only. I was a man, and I had needs that occasionally surpassed what my hand was offering. I knew better than to just use and throw away women, though. I may have been emotionally detached, but that didn't mean I was an asshole. Well, except for this morning. There was no use pretending I didn't feel bad about the way I'd taken off. I just hoped in my inebriated stupor I hadn't said anything to make the poor girl think I was looking for any kind of relationship. Usually I just found someone with whom a mutually beneficial arrangement could be made, someone who wanted commitment no more than I did. Unfortunately, I hadn't been here long enough to work that little detail out yet, and I doubted I'd been smart enough to cover that subject last night.

I finally made it home, drank about a gallon of water, and hit up the medicine cabinet before I started the mind-numbing chore of unpacking. I'd at least had the good sense to pack with some sense of organization in mind, so sorting things out was quick work. My new apartment had been laid out well, with bookcases built into the walls and even a window seat. Someone like Bella would probably curl up there and read one of her books. Not that I cared what Bella would do.

After a couple of hours, I decided I was covered with more than enough packing dust, and I needed a break. I left the mess in the living room, took a quick shower, and decided to check out the neighborhood.

I'd been here a couple of times several years ago, but I'd never really paid attention to it. It was an older part of town that was now an eclectic mix of tall new buildings and smaller old ones, fresh shiny facades against antiqued stone. Almost nothing was open yet, so aside from peering through a few windows, there was really little of the neighborhood to take in. There was a little deli on the corner, though, and since I'd skipped breakfast, I stopped in for a bite. They'd only been open for a few minutes when I walked in, and while it was barely nine in the morning, they only served sandwiches, but at least they were serving. I ordered my sandwich and a rather regrettable cup of coffee and took a seat by the window.

Bella.

No matter what I was thinking about, my mind kept making its way back to her. I was just intrigued by her. That was all. It had been so many years since I'd had a conversation with a woman just for the sake of talking. I'd grown so used to conversations that centered around work, or blatant flirting that practically spelled out the plan for the rest of the night. When I thought about it now, I realized that aside from my mother and Alice, I didn't have a single female friend. Not that that was unusual for a guy, I suppose. But it seemed somehow important.

I took another bite of my sandwich and turned my attention to the people in the deli. A gruff looking older man wiped down the counters, mumbling to himself as he worked. A younger man sat at the bar, his brow furrowed as he worked to fill out a form-probably a job application. A pretty red-haired waitress made the rounds, smiling at the few customers as she refilled their coffee. She must have felt me watching her because her eyes darted to meet mine suddenly, and her smile brightened. I kept my expression blank and nodded, acknowledging her silent greeting but refusing to add anything to it.

Eventually I found myself wandering back down my own street toward my apartment. The weather was nice, and I was tempted to go for a run, but I really just wanted to relax, and I knew I wouldn't be able to do that in a room filled with discarded bubble wrap and broken down boxes. I opted instead to stop in at Alice's, or maybe Emmett's, and take advantage of finally having family around to keep me company.

"So what happened last night?" I asked, popping the top of my beer and propping my feet up on Alice's bargain bin coffee table. "And don't tell me your friend was just tired."

"I'm trying to get some work done, Eddie, so if you don't mind…" she said, waving her hand toward the door to dismiss me. Her small shoulders were hunched over her sewing machine as she squinted and pulled at a wad of fabric.

"Way to avoid the question, Alice."

"What's it matter?" she asked, finally looking up from her mess and eying me suspiciously.

"It doesn't," I shrugged. "I'm just curious. I usually don't get set up with women that freak out in the middle of a date."

Alice narrowed her eyes and glared threateningly. I knew that would get her.

"Oh, that was definitely _not_ a date, Edward. I would never do that to Bella." She smirked victoriously, cocking an eyebrow at me.

I sighed, signaling surrender, and let it go. Alice had a rather skewed view of me, and it wasn't something I felt like arguing at the moment. Suddenly, the door flew open, slamming roughly against the wall, and all seven thousand pounds of Emmett came crashing through.

"Al, can I borrow-Oh, hey Edward."

Okay, maybe he wasn't _that _big, but he was kind of a walking brick wall, something I'd had a lot of fun with when we were younger. After learning about the endocrine system in middle school, I'd come home and convinced Emmett that he had a pituitary problem, specifically gigantism, and it had taken my parents weeks to convince him otherwise. I chuckled to myself, remembering how he'd begged Dad to take him to a specialist, run tests, find a cure, basically anything to keep him from looking like that guy in his Guiness Book of World Records. I had very nearly persuaded him to drink some vile concoction of vinegar, maple syrup, and purple food coloring when the housekeeper caught me and told my parents. I'd been grounded for two weeks, but even then it was worth it.

"What's so funny?" he asked me.

"Well, Alice was just explaining last night to me. Care to share anything?" It didn't matter that Alice wouldn't tell me anything. Emmett was always easy to crack.

"Nice try, bro. My lips are sealed."

Well, _this_ was a new development. "You owe me, _bro," _I countered, hoping maybe he'd feel some guilt for setting me up with a basketcase. "You're the one who tried to set me up with her."

"You _WHAT_?"

Alice shot up like a little missile, knocking her chair over and stalking toward us.

"Shit, Alice, calm down!" Emmett said, holding his hands up defensively and backing away. Yeah, he knew what Alice's slaps felt like.

"I will NOT calm down. What were you thinking?" she demanded, poking him in the chest as he all but cringed into the wall.

"I think she'd be good for him," he offered, shrugging in pseudo innocence.

"Well, of _course_ she'd be good for him," she agreed. "She'd be good for just about anybody. But Edward? _Really_? You know he's not good enough for her!"

As entertaining as it was to watch a midget intimidate a giant, the insults being hurled my way were not as fun. "Ah…still here, guys," I reminded them. "I can hear you."

"I just think Bella needs somebody, Al," Emmett replied, ignoring me.

"Yeah, someone with a heart, someone who won't use her and throw her out," Alice argued.

Well, I'd had enough. "Ah…Alice?" I said, trying to get her attention.

"This doesn't concern you!" she shot back. "Emmett, you know what he would do to her."

"I really don't think-" Emmett began.

"That much is obvious," she said, cutting him off before she turned to me. "Edward, you leave her alone," she warned.

"Give me a reason," I said, daring her to tell me _something_ about the girl.

Her mouth opened and closed a few times, her face scrunching up while she tried to come up with a suitable threat.

"See? Can't come up with one, can you?" I teased. Truthfully, I had no desire to pursue Bella, but letting Alice think otherwise was too much fun.

"Edward, I'm serious," she said, her warning fading into a whine.

"Dude, really," Emmett added. "Bella's special."

Leaving my siblings to discuss their "special" friend, I decided to check out the neighborhood some more. Now that it was later in the day, most of the little shops would be open, and I needed to scout out a good source of coffee if I was to survive here.

There was a dumpy little antique store, a small bank branch, several offices of different sorts. Not far past the deli I'd visited that morning, I passed a tailor and a yoga studio. Finally my eyes fell on a cute little café with outdoor seating and flowers lining the sidewalk, and just as I was about to head inside, I noticed a bookstore. And I did have quite a few shelves to fill...

* * *

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	10. The Awakening

_**Full of wisdom are the ordinations of fate. **_**  
~Johann Friedrich Von Schiller**

**Chapter Ten: The Awakening  
~Bella**

The giant cowbell hanging from the heavy glass door clanked loudly to announce my entrance. Gloria poked her head out from the back.

"How is she?" she asked me.

Gloria had been working at the store since the late sixties, and ever since Mrs. Schaeffer had taken ill, this was our habitual greeting.

"Very well, all things considered," I replied. My standard answer.

"You're so sweet to look out for her. I stopped by to see her last Sunday, and she was just raving about you. Oh!" she exclaimed, looking like she would have jumped up and down if she was able. " Did you see what came in?" She proudly pointed to a stack of worn old books on the counter, and I stepped over to check them out.

"First editions?" I asked, mostly to myself.

"And signed!" she said excitedly.

"Wow," I said, a tinge of disappointment in my tone. I would never understand how anyone could just sell some of the books they did. John Steinbeck may not have been my cup of tea, but a collection of hardcopy first editions, signed no less, was still a rare find. If I could have afforded them, I'd have bought them myself. Not that I'd ever been a huge Steinbeck fan-one reading of The Red Pony had pretty much been all I could take. But still, to own a set of signed books by one of America's finest writers…

"You look terrible," Gloria said, snapping me out of my internal musings.

She certainly wasn't one to mince words, but I supposed that kind of confidence came with money, something I had little experience with. Even though she had been working at the bookstore for nearly forty years, everyone knew it was more of a hobby for her than a necessity. She was new money who had married into old money, and I always got the feeling her taking a retail job was simply her way of telling the world where they could stick it. She looked like your stereotypical WASP, complete with impeccable style and more diamonds on her fingers than I could count, but beneath it all she was something completely different. I'd never seen her with a hair out of place, quite a feat considering Seattle's never-ending supply of rainy days. And it didn't escape my notice that she often forgot to cash her paychecks. Yes, for a woman who should be living on bonbons and sipping champagne, she was definitely an odd one- and not one to cross from what I'd heard.

"I'm just tired," I explained. "Alice had me out late again," I offered, hoping she'd buy it.

"Any luck?" she asked, her eyes lighting up. I knew she was asking about men. She always did.

"Nope," I said, sitting down at the computer behind the front counter. I needed to research the pricing for signed first editions.

"He won't keep you waiting too much longer," she said.

"Who?"

"The right one, Bella. Your Mr. Darcy will find you soon enough."

"Would you mind locking those up?" I asked her, nodding toward the locked case where we kept our rarer books. Even if Darcy was real, I was no Elizabeth.

"Darling, can you come up here for a minute?" Gloria called from the floor. She called everyone 'Darling,' though her brain was like a computer. She never forgot a name.

I was in the office behind our makeshift stockroom, trying to make sense of the finances. The conclusion I'd come to was that if Gloria hadn't been so forgetful about her paychecks, we would have been out of business months ago. I had a feeling that was no coincidence.

"Coming!" I yelled back, trying to keep the tension out of my voice. I was going to have to ask her if she knew of any additional funds Mrs. Schaeffer might have stowed away somewhere. Otherwise, the future of Schaeffer Books was very uncertain.

I sighed and pushed the scattered receipts back into a half-way orderly pile and walked out onto the sales floor. Gloria was at the counter, calmly holding her ground while a middle-aged man in a wrinkled suit tried to talk her down on the price of a leather bound set of old encyclopedias. I stumbled over the uneven threshold between the sales area and the stockroom, effectively announcing my presence, and she glanced my way.

"There's a gentleman asking about the Steinbecks," she said, motioning toward the large bookcases in the front window.

Crap. I hadn't had time to finish my pricing research. Well, maybe he didn't have a clue either, and I could get away with a higher than normal price. God knows we needed the money. I didn't see anyone there, but walked around the clusters of display tables in the direction Gloria had nodded. Gloria wasn't that old yet, so I doubted she was imagining things. And I was just stressed enough about the store's finances that I wasn't paying attention to important things…like walls.

Sure enough, there he was, bending for a closer look at something on a lower shelf and giving me an eyeful of the most perfect ass ever to see denim. I was so focused on his anatomy that I ploughed right into a divider wall, but I did manage to catch myself before any serious facial damage was done. I would have liked to have said the same for my ego.

At the sound of my collision, the man rose and turned toward me, his eyes widening before his face broke out with that incredible crooked grin. I could feel my skin flush, turning a dozen colors in a matter of seconds- all shades of red, of course. Whether it was embarrassment at having been caught admiring the view, or the fact that said view had steered me right into a wall, I couldn't say. But I was definitely stunned. I'd been right about the bronze. He had the most beautiful hair color I'd ever seen, and it did wonders for his eyes.

"Bella?" he asked, looking surprised.

"Hello, Edward," I said, trying to sound more composed than I felt. "Gloria says you were asking about the Steinbecks."

His smile faltered a little, but those amazing green eyes held on. "I didn't realize this was your bookstore," he said.

"It's not really mine," I said. "I'm just the manager."

"Then you hold all the power," he said playfully. "You get to give discounts. Does our long history entitle me to a special discount?" He hit me with that smile again. It was almost as hypnotizing as his eyes. Damn, the man knew how to flirt.

"You were asking about the Steinbecks we just got?" I asked, trying to steer the conversation back in a business direction.

He nodded, but the mischievous glint in his eye remained. And where did that dimple come from?

"We just got them in, so I haven't had time to price them. If you don't mind waiting, I can go look it up for you." I didn't mind the idea of small talk, but I didn't want it to lead back to questions about last night.

"Of course," he said, his eyes still holding me captive.

The smug expression on his face told me I'd been silent and staring for too long, and I yanked my gaze away. I managed not to take on any more walls as I made my way through the store. Gloria had finished up with her customer, and she was now eyeing me with unmasked curiosity. I ignored her raised eyebrows and went straight to the desk behind the counter. After a few minutes of searching online, and one phone call to a rare book dealer in Vancouver, I had a list of prices jotted down my little sticky pad.

I grabbed my calculator and tallied up the total, and I may have included a little bit of a discount. Then I stood and turned to find him. Where I found him was leaning over the counter watching me.

"Oh!" I squeaked. Well, that was attractive. _Wait. Why am I worried about whether or not he finds me attractive? I. Don't. Date._

_Period._

He seemed amused, never taking his eyes off me as he reached for his wallet and pulled out a credit card.

"Don't you even want to know the price?" I asked.

"I'm sure it's fair," he said.

_Must be nice_, I thought as I rang him up. Not having to worry about money was something I hadn't known since college. But in the short time I'd been out, I had quickly realized that every penny counts.

"Hey, Bella! Sorry I'm late," Tanya announced a little breathlessly as she rushed in juggling a messy pile of papers and textbooks. She stopped short at the sight of Edward. "Well, helllllooooo there, Sexy," she purred.

My jaw dropped. Sure, I knew Tanya was blunt, and more than a little on the flirty side, but she had never been so obvious about it in front of me.

Edward took one look at my face and just laughed. "Are your employees always this friendly?" he asked me.

"Tanya, don't sexually harass the customers while you're on the clock," I said, hoping my frankness would snap her out of it.

"Yes, Mom," she said, rolling her eyes dramatically. Then she looked back at Edward and winked. "My break's at noon," she said.

"Tanya!" I wanted to chastise her for real this time, but she cut me off.

"What?" she asked, wide eyed, her voice deceptively innocent. "I clock out for my break," she laughed as she went to drop her things in the back.

"Well, that was interesting," Edward said.

"I'm so sorry. She really is a nice girl," I told him apologetically.

"Seems like it," he said.

"Not like that! She's considerate and loyal and she has the _sweetest_ boyfriend and-"

"I wasn't implying anything, Bella. She really does seem nice. A little crazy, but nice," he laughed.

"Oh," I said, feeling the blood creep back into my cheeks. And here I'd gone almost five minutes without blushing.

"But now that I've been sexually harassed on your watch, I expect you'll want to make it up to me," he said, a serious look on his face.

"Oh…ah…okay," I stuttered. Maybe he really _was _offended. I wondered how much of a discount would be proper under the circumstances. I wondered what it would take to get him to say the word "sexually" again. I wondered what the hell was wrong with me.

"Coffee?" he asked.

"Huh?" Surely he didn't we were one of those giant bookstores with a cappuccino bar.

"A cup of coffee. That should be enough to restore my dignity," he joked. "Is the place next door any good?"

"Yes, it's wonderful," I said, thinking immediately of the sweet little couple that owned the little cafe, working side-by-side since the late 1940's. Mr. and Mrs. Klein were the kind of happily-ever-after people write books about, and even though I was envious, it always warmed my heart when I saw their old fashioned flirting going on. Mr. Klein would brush Mrs. Klein's hand as he walked by and she would smile at him from under her lashes. Ben, who managed the store despite their continuous presence there, always got a kick out of it, too.

"Well, come on then," he said holding his hand out.

"Right now?" I sputtered. _Crap!_ I'd walked right into this one! "Oh, I can't. It's not even ten yet, and I can't leave Gloria and-"

"Darling!" Gloria practically sang from the front window display case. She was precariously perched on a ladder while stringing what looked to be Christmas lights from the ceiling. I would forever rue the day I gave her creative control of our displays.

"Yes, Gloria?" I replied, thankful for the interruption.

"Would you mind terribly running next door and fetching me a cup of coffee? My purse is under the counter. Why don't you get yourself a nice cup of tea- my treat?"

Damn Gloria.

"It's settled then," he said, resting those gorgeous eyes on me again. "You, Ms. Manager, have just been ordered to fetch coffee for your employee."

Now he was just outright laughing, and I was somewhere between wanting to slap him and wanting to kiss him. Like that would ever happen.

"Fine," I huffed, ignoring his offered hand and walking past him to the door. "Tanya!" I called over my shoulder. "Box up those Steinbecks on the desk while I'm gone."

There. At least I was _somebody_'s boss.


	11. The Prophet

******Every friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born.  
**_~Anais Nin__**  
**_

* * *

**Chapter Eleven: The Prophet  
~Bella~  
**

I tried not to linger too long, but the ticking seconds were the last thing on my mind as I sipped my tea and talked to Edward. Like before, our conversation was free-flowing, easy, and pretty benign. He found it curious that I ordered herbal tea—until I explained my constant struggles with gravity. We talked a lot about books, and I told him all about the store and Mrs. Schaeffer. I couldn't hide my envy when he mentioned his Ivy League education, but he was humble about it.

"Don't get me wrong. I'm grateful for the opportunities it has afforded me, but it kept me on the East Coast, away from my family for far too long," he said.

"That would be hard," I agreed. "I can barely go a month without seeing my dad. I tried once, when I was busy with finals, and he was ready to file a missing persons report. He's a cop. I'm surprised he didn't show up with a SWAT team and dogs."

"A little over-protective, is he?"

"I don't know about over-protective," I said. "We just…I don't know. It's always been just the two of us, so I guess we're just extra close. What about your family?"

He looked confused for a second, and I wondered if I'd crossed some invisible line or brought up a bad subject. He had said he didn't like being away from his family, so I couldn't imagine what could have been wrong with my question.

"Well, my parents have set an example no one could possibly live up to, my siblings meddle too much, and they've all made it their mission in life to marry me off."

Marry him off? I couldn't imagine that would be difficult to do. Hell, I was surprised women weren't lined up at our table right now, handing in resumes and letters of recommendation. He was funny and smart and so easy on the eyes it was sinful. I felt my breath catch every time he ran his hands through his hair.

"What about your mom?" he asked cautiously.

"Oh, Renee's great! She's really fun, always off on a new adventure. She never stays in one place very long, and every time she calls, she's always in a different country. Last week she was in Peru…I think. Or maybe it was Columbia. Well, South America at least. That's why I've always lived with my dad. Renee could barely settle down long enough to have me."

"You seem oddly okay with that," he said.

My situation with my mom was odd. She'd fallen madly in love with my dad when they were both just out of high school and gotten married during one of those Vegas weekend things. Dad got a job on the police force in Forks, so they'd bought a little house, and within a few months they were expecting me. Unfortunately, that was where the fairytale ended. Renee (she never did like being called Mom) was restless, and small town life with a new baby was pretty much everything she feared it would be: boring and predictable. Shortly after my second birthday, she announced she was leaving, and she'd never looked back. Sure, she popped in occasionally for my birthday or Christmas, but for the most part, my entire relationship with my mother was based on phone calls and emails.

"I guess I am. When I was little, I used to wonder what was so wrong with me that my mom left me behind, but as I got older, I started to piece it together. She's strong and independent, but she's also flighty and irresponsible. The best thing she ever did for me was leave me with the one parent who could give me a secure, stable home life."

"So how did the teenage daughter of an overprotective cop ever manage to have a dating life?" he asked.

"Oh, Dad was the least of my problems when it came to dating," I replied, unable to suppress a smile.

"How's that?"

"It was so humiliating," I laughed, shaking my head at the memory. "When I was fifteen, a boy in my Spanish class asked me to a movie. Dad didn't like it, but he didn't give me any grief about it. But when we walked into the theater, half the Quileute Nation was there to chaperone."

"The Quileute Nation?"

"A tribe in La Push. The reservation wasn't far from Forks, and I spent a lot of time there. Apparently Dad had told his friend Billy that I was going on my first date, and it was all downhill from there. It was two years before another boy had the nerve to ask me out."

"We used to do the same thing. Anytime my sister had a date, we would just happen to show up and try to scare the crap out of the poor schmuck. Be glad you don't have brothers," he laughed.

"Don't be so sure about that. The Quileute boys were all freaks of nature, huge, intimidating, and at least six feet tall even when we were in junior high. I doubt anyone could have put more of a damper on my dating possibilities than they did. "

"And now you don't date at all?"

"No. It's just not my thing," I said, suddenly a little nervous. I mentally checked my list of reasons-I-can't-go-out-with-you, and was quite satisfied with my options.

I was well-prepared, my best one on the tip of my tongue, when he stood and said, "I guess we should get you back to work."

He held his hand out again, and this time I took it. That warm fuzzy feeling pulsed through me again the instant our skin touched. I tried not to react, and he just smiled, and then walked with me back to the store.

Gloria's head popped up from below the counter, and she rushed over to grab her coffee, and then zipped away before I even had the chance to glare at her.

"All set!" Tanya chirped. She came walking out of the back room, trying her best to rock her hips sexily, but she only achieved a strange waddle under the heavy box she was carrying. Edward quickly grabbed it from her arms and set it on the counter. He turned back to me.

"Thank you for the coffee, Ms. Swan," he said.

"Oh, ah…you're welcome?" I said. Why did that come out like a question?

One dazzling smile later, and he was out the door.

I couldn't help but stare after him. What was it about that man? Sure, I was a single woman, no love life to speak of, and not a single decent date since James--- not that I was looking. But that didn't mean I had to stand there and drool over a perfect stranger. I sighed heavily.

"Soooo?" Gloria asked.

She and Tanya were leaning over the counter now, waiting for what I'm sure they thought would be the romantic tale of the century.

"So nothing," I replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Oh, come on!" Tanya whined. "He's so pretty! Not even a kiss?"

I laughed. "No kissing for me, thanks!"

Gloria gave me a strange look. "One day, Darling. One day…"

Whatever that was supposed to mean.

* * *

**Changes to Posting Schedule for Broken**:

New chapters of _Broken _will be posted at ADifferentForest(dot)com before they are posted anywhere else. They will then be submitted to Twilighted, where they will take a few days to be validated, and then upon validation, they'll be posted here as well.

I'm also posting a new fic, _An Illusion, a Shadow, a Story_, exclusively on ADifferentForest, and at some point I'll get around to posting _More than Yesterday _there as well. Yes, I have lots of fics stored away, and I just start posting them whenever I get around to it. I even found one in my files today that I only vaguely remember writing, but apparently it's almost complete, so it'll probably end up on ADF, too.

If you're not familiar with ADifferentForest, here's what I can tell you. Members hang out in "The Forest" where we all chat it up and discuss and occasionally make fun of each other. About 30 authors including myself were invited to post our fics in their "Storytelling" section, and we all have "Cabins" which are essentially our own little forums for posting teasers and chatting it up with our readers. This is HUGE for me, which is why I'm taking advantage of the opportunity and doing some early and exclusive posting there. If you know anything about me, you know that I'm most known for Breathe Again, and wolfpack fics, especially those that commit the unspeakable sin of pairing Jacob with Bella, are largely ignore by the rest of the fandom. So to have a site with some of the most amazing authors I know ask me to post there....well, I'm just a little excited about that. Anyhow, you're still gonna see this story right here on , but if you want to read the new chapters the second they're available, head on over to ADF.


	12. 3 Lives

**As long as habit and ****routine dictate the pattern of living, new dimensions of the soul will not emerge.**  
_**~Henry Van Dyke**_

**

* * *

Chapter Twelve: 3 Lives**

The hours flew by quickly. We'd received a huge shipment of books from an estate sale Gloria had scouted out the week before, and the three of us sat around gossiping while we unpacked our newest treasures. We made for an odd trio.

Gloria was gracefully arranged on the floor, her legs tucked to the side of her powder blue suit, her hair perfect as usual, and her head held high. She looked like she should be hosting one of those charity balls where all the guests pay thousands of dollars to eat food with names they can't pronounce. She was kind of like a cross between the Queen of England and a lioness. Always proper, polite, and graceful, but fearsome when provoked. She removed each book from the boxes, carefully inspecting them for wear, damage, and what she liked to call "collectability," then passed them to Tanya.

Tanya looked like she belonged on one of those dating shows you see late at night. Her strawberry blond hair was streaked with highlights so pale they looked like white stripes, and apparently she was under the impression that teasing and hairspray were 'in.' Her poplin shirt would have been adorable if it had not been two sizes too small and unbuttoned in a way that made it look like her breasts were about to make a break for it. And how on earth did she manage to paint those jeans on? Still, for a girl who clearly spent too much time trying to look sexy, she was very pretty. And despite her wild streak, she had a heart of gold. I'd thought Mrs. Schaeffer had been crazy to hire her, but I had to admit it was a sound decision. Tanya might run ten minutes late every day, but she never complained, was always available to work extra hours, and was loyal to a fault. She was currently enrolled in night classes to become a nurse, and I could just picture her in one of those sexy nurse get-ups that popped up every Halloween. The male patients were going to love her.

And there I was… I don't know how I would describe myself. I didn't wear much in the way of makeup, and over the past few years my hair had found its way under a wide plastic headband that irked Alice to no end. I usually wore jeans, although I sometimes rocked the corduroys, and I had an impressive selection of t-shirts from Target---you know, the ones that are always two for twenty bucks and come in fifteen different colors? Yeah, I had every color. And much to Alice's dismay, my footwear tended to be an old pair of sneakers. That's not to say I didn't know how to dress up. It's just that I rarely had occasion to do so. My closet harbored a few rarely worn skirts and dresses, as well as some low-heeled shoes, but when one does nothing all day but unpack dusty old books and lounge around on the sofa at home, casual is the way to go.

While Tanya was making a list of our latest inventory and Gloria was helping a customer, I took a second to call Mrs. Schaeffer's attorney. As luck would have it, he had an afternoon meeting nearby, so he offered to stop by and speak with me instead of my having to leave work to drive across town. And promptly at four o'clock, he strolled in.

"Ms. Swan?" he asked, spotting me on the floor behind the counter.

"Mr. Prestwick?" I asked in return.

"It's so nice to finally meet you," he said with a warm smile. "I've been very curious to see the saint who's been taking such good care of my client."

"Oh, I don't know about sainthood," I laughed as I got up and dusted off my jeans. "I just try to help out when I can."

He was dressed in a suit that probably cost more than my car, but he had none of the pretentiousness I would have expected from an attorney of his caliber.

"Is there somewhere we can sit down?" he asked.

I motioned over to the upholstered chairs and coffee table nestled in the back corner, and we took our seats. He set his briefcase on the table and popped it open with a loud click. After shuffling around for a couple of seconds, he withdrew an enormous stack of papers and files.

"So, Ms. Swan," he began. "I imagine Mrs. Schaeffer has told you about her plans?"

Plans? All I knew of her plans was that she wanted to marry me off to the hunk of the week from the society pages. Oh, and she planned on taking a cruise in the summer, although I doubted she would remember that idea long enough to see it through. "Ah…no, sorry," I said with a shrug.

He looked genuinely surprised, and then cleared his throat. "Well, Ms. Swan, currently you are handling all her business dealings, are you not?"

"I don't know about all her business, but I do take care of the store," I said, unnecessarily sweeping my hands out as if he didn't know which store I was referring to. "And I try to help her keep up with her bills," I added.

"Ah, yes. And if you are so inclined, you may continue in that capacity. I understand that she is unable to care for herself?"

"Well, yes, but we're making do," I quickly explained. I didn't want to give him the impression she needed to be carted off to the old folks' home! "There's a nurse that stops by around lunchtime every day, and I always check in on her before and after work."

"Well, there's no need for you to worry about all that now," he said almost dismissively as he thumbed through a file.

Something about his answer really ticked me off. Not worry about all that? Did he expect me to just write her off so she could die without dignity in some sterile nursing home?

"With all due respect, Mr. Prestwick," I said, unable to keep my voice as calm as I would have liked to, "It's no worry for me at all. Mrs. Schaeffer is quite happy in her home, and I am happy to help her. Now, I don't know what you're getting at here..." I stopped when I noticed he was holding up both hands in surrender.

"I'm afraid I was not clear," he explained. "Mrs. Schaeffer has more than enough to afford full time in-home care. I'm sure she would be delighted if you would continue to visit, but the burden her situation has put on you will be lessened. "

"Oh," I said. _Well thanks for making me feel stupid._

"I am concerned about the business, though," he continued.

"Yes, well, the economy isn't helping, but we're getting by," I replied.

"But it appears you have only been accessing one of her business accounts."

_Only one? _"There's more?" I asked hopefully.

"Of course," he replied with a small laugh.

_Yep, I feel stupid again._

"She has some rather large accounts that normally feed payroll, taxes, that sort of thing," he explained. "The bank has been accepting the store's deposits and then dividing the funds into separate accounts for years."

Well that explained why the money always went faster than I expected. I just never had full access to the statements, so while I could deposit money, write checks, and even see the current balance, I had no ability to see the individual transactions. I'd always just assumed that some sort of direct payments were being pulled from the account. And asking Mrs. Schaeffer had proved pointless, as she had little understanding or even memory of her finances.

* * *

By the time Mr. Prestwick left, all our problems had been solved. At least, that's what it felt like. When Mrs. Schaeffer had been admitted to the hospital, she had given me what I assumed was all the important financial information for the store, but as it had turned out, her decreased mental facilities had caused her some confusion when it came to the accounts. The account she'd given me access to was only one of three that held the store's profits and cash reserve for the past few decades. Instead of having less than a thousand in the bank, we actually had just under a hundred thousand. I wanted to do a little happy dance the minute he told me, but I didn't want to ruin the moment by ending up back in the emergency room.

All the arrangements had been made for her in-home care as well. The live-in nurse would arrive tomorrow morning, and the additional day-nurse would report to work at eight a.m. I immediately asked about their experience and background, and like the good lawyer he was, he produced not only thorough background checks on both, but also complete work histories as well as glowing letters of recommendation. It seemed money really could buy happiness.

After seeing Gloria and Tanya out, I placed all the forms he'd given me in the safe and walked around, turning off all but the motion and security lights. It was a fairly crime-safe neighborhood, but we didn't press our luck. The streets were pretty empty, and the sun was disappearing behind the trees as I stepped outside and turned to lock the door behind me.

"Can I walk you home?"

I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sound of James's voice.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he said. "I keep startling you, don't I?"

I simply nodded and slipped my keys into my purse, wrapping my fingers around the little can of pepper spray Dad insisted I carry. I didn't really think he was there to attack me or anything, but a little insurance never hurt anyone.

"I'll have to work on that," he said with a tentative smile.

"I'm okay walking by myself," I said.

"Well, I won't keep you then," he said. "Have a good evening, Bella."

His smile was friendly, but his tone was sad, twisting my heart into a painful knot. Was this the James I'd loved? Was that drunken monster exorcised? I certainly didn't want the cold, violent side to reappear, but I hadn't expected him to be so casual and...considerate. He seemed almost shy and uncertain, and it was too much like the boy who'd danced around asking me out back when we were in high school. I knew I shouldn't, but I felt sorry for him. He'd made a terrible mistake, several in fact, during the worst time of his life. He'd gone to prison and paid dearly for it. Yet I couldn't hate him when he was like this.

* * *

I thought about him the entire way to Mrs. Schaeffer's, finding temporary relief in her thousand questions about her new nurses. I helped her hide her silver and her finer jewelry (she was convinced one of the nurses would steal it) and spent a good ten minutes refusing to accept a pair of diamond earrings.

"You met him, didn't you?" she asked me.

"The nurse?"

"No, dear. Your beau."

"My beau?" I laughed. "No, I'm afraid there's no Prince Charming in my future."

"Oh, don't give up so easily, dear. You'll find him."

"It's kind of hard to find someone when you're not exactly looking."

She clapped her hands together and giggled. "Oh, but that's the best way to find him," she said with a knowing smile.

"Tell me about Randall," I said, knowing the subject of her late husband would take the focus off me.

"Oooooh, " she said excitedly. "He had the most beautiful eyes. When he looked at me I forgot everything except the color of his eyes."

I knew the feeling. "This is him, right? I asked, pointing to an old black and white photo on her mantle.

"Yes, that's my Randall. How I wish we had color photography then."

"He's very handsome," I said. He reminded me a little of Cary Grant.

"Oh, handsome isn't the half of it. My Randall was simply breathtaking. All the other girls were jealous of me." She had a proud little smirk on her face and I couldn't help but laugh. "And romantic," she said almost dreamily. "He was so romantic. He would come calling twice a week, drove Mama crazy, and we would sit on the porch with my brother George and talk for hours and hours. Wasn't proper for us to be alone together, you know?" She punctuated that question with a wink, and I laughed so hard it brought tears to my eyes.

"You are scandalous, Mrs. Schaeffer!" I said with amusement.

"Yes, I suppose I learned that from Randall," she laughed. "He was quite the rake, you know. When Margaret Timmons went to care for her aunt in Ohio, everyone said she was in the family way. They blamed Randall, you know."

"Was she?" I asked, my eyes wide with curiosity. It was always so much fun gossiping with Mrs. Schaeffer, and her outdated phrases for things like pregnancy cracked me up.

"Yes, but not because of my Randall. She had been spending time unchaperoned that Frank Walters. He did right by her though. They were married a few years later. Poor girl. No one ever treated her with any kindness after that."

"And Randall?" I asked.

"Well, of course when I heard the stories I was cross. I wouldn't let him come to the house, and Mama even had words with his mother about it."

"So what happened? How'd he win you back?" I asked.

"He just wouldn't give up on me. Stood by our front gate every night, he did. Left flowers for me every day." Her smile faded a little. "And then there was the accident."

I knew all about her accident. They had been coming home from mass, and her brother was driving. In a time of no seatbelts or airbags, Mrs. Schaeffer had been thrown from the car, and her brother had been killed. Her injuries were so extensive, and medicine was such an inexact science then, that the doctors had been a bit overzealous in their attempts to save her. She'd been left incapable of having children, badly scarred, and with a permanent limp.

"My Randall called every day. It was just me and Mama then. He filled the woodbin and trimmed the hedges. He went to the grocer for us, too, since Mama wouldn't drive anymore. When the bank tried to call our note, he had a meeting with Mr. Bridges and they didn't bother us anymore. Mama told him she wouldn't take charity, but he wouldn't stop. Then one night he came in my room and asked for my hand. I tried shooing him out---Mama would have had a spell if she'd found us alone together.

"And you said yes," I said.

"Oh, no, dear. I said no. I wasn't fit to be a wife."

"But---"

"That's just the way times were. A wife needed to keep house, bear children, take care of her husband. I couldn't do those things."

"That's just not right!"

"Randall didn't think so either. He proposed every day for nearly three months."

"And then you said yes?"

"Well of course I did, dear. It's not like he was going to go away," she said with a big smile.

She prattled on for a while longer, but I could tell she was getting tired. I finally talked her into letting me help her upstairs. I waited until I could hear her quiet snore, and then I let myself out and headed home.

The sun had set and everything was bathed in the yellow glare of the streetlights. I looked over my shoulder several times, half-expecting to see James somewhere in the shadows, but the streets were truly deserted. Once home, I watched a little TV and microwaved a bowl of soup. After a long shower, I turned out the lights and crawled into bed. The second I shut my eyes, the nightmares returned.


	13. The Way We Live Now

**The beginnings of all things are small.  
_~Cicero_**

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen: The Way We Live Now  
~Bella~**

The next few days sailed by smoothly. With the store's finances in order, the girls and I were in good spirits, and we even ordered in pizza for lunch in celebration. I gave Tanya a much deserved raise, and when she spent too much time on the phone with her boyfriend, I simply looked the other way. Aside from a stray, nagging thought of James, all was right in the world.

I continued to drop in on Mrs. Schaeffer twice a day, and I met both the nurses assigned to her care. One was an older woman, Sylvia, and it seemed she brought the cleaning fairy with her when she moved in. Although I'd done a bang-up job of keeping things tidy, Sylvia had managed to have the whole place sparkling within a matter of hours. I was relieved to detect the warm smell of cinnamon still in the air, though. The house just wouldn't have been the same without it.

Bruce, the day-nurse, was the most cheerful man I'd ever met. He was a giant, even bigger than Emmett, and he absolutely doted on Mrs. Schaeffer. I got the feeling she enjoyed the attention, and I think I may have even overheard her asking him out on a date.

On Thursday night, I went over to Alice's to watch a movie with her and Jasper. I'd stopped feeling like a third wheel a long time ago. Emmett showed up half-way through, the blonde bombshell from the club on his arm, and we'd ended up playing Pictionary well into the night. Alice asked how I was doing, and I could tell it was more than just a polite inquiry, but she didn't mention anything specific, and I didn't volunteer anything. I was tempted to tell her about James, but I didn't want to get the guys riled up, and since it didn't seem like James meant me any harm, it seemed like it was a subject better left alone. Besides, when I told her I was doing great, I meant it. Things really were looking up for me.

Emmett and Rosalie (the bombshell) left immediately after we kicked their asses in Pictionary. Emmett insisted it was because we had three on our team, but we all knew it was because the only thing he could draw was stick figures. Even those were practically unrecognizable, and the few that we could make out appeared to be in obscene positions. Rosalie hadn't seemed the least embarrassed by his vulgar art and I suspected she actually encouraged it. Clearly they were made for each other.

* * *

Friday was finally upon me, and I lazily spent most of the morning in bed. My night had been fitful, but I hadn't had any nightmares. For that I was grateful.

So there I was, wide awake in bed, just hoping that lying there would be enough rest for my body. At least it was my day off. Other people may have hated the way working in retail consumed every weekend, but I honestly loved the odd days off. We were always closed on Fridays, which gave me plenty of time to lounge around or run errands while corporate America slaved away at their desks. We were also only open half the day on Sundays. Mrs. Schaeffer had always explained that it was because we didn't get busy until after church let out, but I always suspected it was her way of encouraging us all to find a little religion.

Around noon, I finally got dressed and headed out. I needed to see Mrs. Schaeffer, replenish my pantry, and pick up something interesting for dinner. For the past several years, Emmett, Alice, and I had little dinner parties, complete with too much wine, every Friday night. We'd started out rotating apartments, but we soon learned that Alice's shopping addiction didn't include groceries, and Emmett had practically no cookware. Now, Friday dinners were always hosted at my place, and I loved it.

A week after Alice met Jasper, she announced that she was madly in love with him, and he hadn't missed a Friday dinner since. Emmett generally didn't bring a guest, although a few memorable ones had joined us over the years. It took us a while to figure out, but despite his playboy reputation, Emmett really was seeking true love. The few women he had brought over were always ones he'd hoped might be "the one," although each time he was disappointed. Tonight he was bringing Rosalie, and I was a little bit excited for him. Sure, she was brash and tactless, but she had spirit, and I had to admit that she seemed truly taken with Emmett. Maybe he'd finally found the one woman who could put up with him.

Occasionally others came to our dinners. Jasper's roommate from college, a guy named Mike, had come to visit for a month, during which he enjoyed our tradition five times. He set his sights on me the moment he saw me, and while he was a nice guy, I was thrilled when his extended vacation came to an end. Ben, my friend from the cafe who often walked me home when dusk fell early had also come over a handful of times. We'd even dated for a little while, but it was soon apparent to both of us that neither was interested in more than friendship. He still came by about once a month, only now he was accompanied by Angela, one of my customers that I'd introduced him to.

The best times, though, were when Jacob came to visit. He was my childhood best friend, and though he swore he'd never leave his disabled father or the reservation on which he grew up, he found an awful lot of excuses to visit Seattle. His wife Leah was pregnant with twins, so she'd stopped accompanying him on his trips to Seattle, and I had even tried to talk him out of visiting until after the babies were born, but he wouldn't hear of it. I hadn't heard from him yet today, but I bought enough extra just in case he dropped in. Extra for Jacob would feed five normal men.

* * *

"Mrs. Schaeffer?" I usually stopped by earlier in the day, but with the nurses there, I was able to actually sleep in on my day off. I was hoping I hadn't dropped in while she was napping or something.

"Is that you, dear?" she answered. "We're in the kitchen!"

I made my way through the now exceptionally clean home to find Mrs. Schaeffer and Sylvia sitting at the table while Bruce made a mess of the stovetop.

"We're just watching the show," Sylvia said, nodding toward Bruce.

He was hunched over the stove, sloshing some yellow liquid out of a pot and sweating up a storm.

"Whatcha doing there, Bruce?" I asked.

"Gravy…not cooperating…don't know why," he mumbled, clearly exasperated.

"Lemme have a look," I said.

He gladly sidled out of the way, and I leaned over the pot to see what appeared to be a clear broth with some globs of flour floating around in it.

"Instant potatoes," I told him. He raised an eyebrow. "Instant potatoes will thicken it up if you don't have cream of tartar."

He gave a grateful smile and went straight to the pantry. I joined the ladies at the table.

"So, dear, do you have a hot date tonight?" Mrs. Schaeffer asked.

How she went from talking about beaus to hot dates, I could only imagine, but I managed to hold back my laughter…almost. "No, ma'am," I said. "Just another Friday for me."

"You should invite a young man to one of your dinners. You know what they say," she said. "The way to a man's heart…"

"Ah, if only it were that easy," I laughed.

"Oh, but it is," Sylvia chimed in. "See? Bruce already loves you." She nodded in his direction, and he turned to me with a gleaming smile.

"That true Bruce?" I asked playfully.

"Well, of course, Miss Bella. What's not to love?"

I grinned at his playfulness, but his words cut through me. There was so much not to love.

* * *

After a nice lunch with the now larger Schaeffer household, I guided my ancient truck through traffic to the closest grocery store. I circled around for a while, and then a space near the front finally opened up. I grabbed a cart and headed inside, stopping briefly to chat with the sweet old man who worked as a greeter before I pulled out my list and headed down the first aisle.

I made my way through the grocery store, stocking up on fresh produce, beef tenderloin, and some Chilean sea bass that was on sale. Just because I was single didn't mean I had to fill my cart with frozen dinners and ice cream. Besides, with as often as my dad fished while I was growing up, I was a whiz at whipping up new seafood recipes.

Bruce's meal had given me some new ideas, although I already had tonight's menu planned, so I spent several minutes in the spice aisle, picking out some saffron and black flake salt. Then I made a quick stop in the frozen food aisle, digging around until I found it hidden behind some pies. French cheesecake was my weakness, and nothing beat the frozen kind.

"Stocking up for Armageddon?"

I spun around, knocking my elbow hard against the glass door. "Huh?"

"That's a lot of groceries for just one person," Edward said, smirking at me as he casually leaned against his empty cart.


	14. Pride and Prejudice

**The real business of life is trying to understand each other.  
_~Gilbert Parker  
_**

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen: Pride & Prejudice  
~Bella~**

He was dressed in shorts and a gray t-shirt, sweat darkening the center of his chest. The lean muscles in his legs twitched as he shifted his weight to lean back against his nearly empty cart. His unruly bronze hair was even messier than usual, and it was all so perfect. It was like Michelangelo's David had been sculpted in aisle seven when I wasn't looking.

"Oh…ah…I like to cook. And I…I'm having company," I replied. What was it about him that reduced me to stammering idiot?

"I don't doubt it," he said, smirking.

What was that supposed to mean? "So, are you following me now?" I asked petulantly.

"Absolutely," he said with a grin. "While I could drive across town to do my shopping, I select this store, not because it's closest to my home, but because you might be here."

Okay, Mr. Sarcasm. I decided to ignore his smirk and pushed my squeaky cart along, heading for the wine and beer aisle. He followed behind me, his silent cart mocking the wobbly wheels on mine. Perfect eyes, perfect hair, perfect smile, and perfect grocery cart. Jerk.

I felt him watching me as I perused the wines. I normally knew exactly what to buy, but it was impossible to concentrate with his eyes boring into my back.

"May I make a suggestion?" he asked.

I turned to face him. "Ah…okay."

He moved toward me and I started to take a step backward, but he quickly grabbed my arm. "Careful," he said.

Of course. I had been about to step backward right into a wall of wine bottles. That would have been something to see. He reached past me, over my head, my eyes level with his shoulder, his clean scent washing over me…musk, earth, spice. Even sweaty he smelled wonderful.

"How about this one?" he asked, handing me a dark bottle as he smoothly backed out of my personal space.  
Valpolicella. Nice. He was right. It would go wonderfully with the beef, and as long as it wasn't too---

"Oh, no, I don't think so," I said. The price was eighty seven dollars! For one measly bottle! I mean, I knew that a good wine was imperative to a good meal, but I really didn't want to sacrifice something like having hot water or electricity just so I could get a buzz on.

I watched as surprise registered in his eyes, followed closely by something resembling embarrassment. Why should he be embarrassed, though? I was the one who couldn't afford a decent bottle of wine. He took the bottle from my hand and placed it back on the shelf. I noticed his next reach was not for the top shelf at all, but rather for one at about my eye level. At least this one might be more in my price range. I eyed the next bottle he handed me. Another Valpolicella. And only sixteen dollars.

I placed it in my cart and turned to grab three more bottles of it. I looked at my cart, and then grabbed three bottles of Pinot Grigio in the same brand, and a nice cheap Riesling for myself.

"You know the first step is admitting you have a problem, right?" he said, one eyebrow cocked up as he eyed my groceries.

"Very funny," I said, rolling my eyes. "I'll have company, remember?"

"I certainly hope so," he laughed.

The banter continued as he followed me through the store. Half the time I couldn't figure out if he was laughing with me or at me, but his company was nice, really nice. I grabbed a twelve pack of cheap beer for Emmett, garnering another puzzled look from Edward, but this time he didn't ask. I felt kind of silly, strolling down every aisle while he dutifully followed along. It looked like I was buying groceries for a small country, while he rarely tossed anything into his cart. By the time we reached the checkout line, my basket was getting hard to push, and his…well, it was really just sad.

"That's all you're getting?" I asked.

"I'm not the one expecting company," he said.

I eyed the depressing collection of frozen pizzas, sandwich meat, and canned soups, and for a moment I felt sorry for him. A small part of me was also a little happy to see there was no way he could be shopping for two. But I gave that part of myself a swift kick in the butt and went back to feeling bad for him. Single life really sucked sometimes. I wondered if he was just tagging along with me because he was lonely. Then I caught the check out girl looking him up and down, and all sympathy vanished.

When she realized we weren't together, her smile grew noticeably friendlier, bordering on inappropriately inviting, and she took her time ringing him up. It took her twice as long to bag his groceries, despite the fact that he'd bought just two bags worth, because she was making silly jokes and flirty comments the whole time. I half expected her to just write her number on the back of his receipt or maybe even shove the register out of the way and pounce on him. Apparently I wasn't the only one dazzled by him.

His reaction to her wasn't much better. Each time she batted her lashes at him or giggled, he practically preened. I wanted to laugh at my own stupidity. Here I'd thought he was a genuinely nice guy, when in truth he was just another version of Emmett, though it hardly appeared that he was on a similar quest to find "the one." When her stupid fake nails lingered on his hand as he handed her his money, I decided I'd had enough. If I wanted to watch mating rituals, I could simply tune into National Geographic when I got home. I took my groceries and steered my squeaky cart toward my truck.

"I never would have guessed," he said. Well, he was still following me all right.

"What?" I asked, not bothering to turn around as I loaded the bags into the passenger floorboard.

"You just don't look like a truck kind of girl to me," he replied.

I set the last bag in the truck and turned around. "What's that supposed to mean?" I asked a little too sharply.

"It means you surprise me," he said with a laugh.

"Oh…sorry," I said, feeling my face flush with embarrassment. Just because he flirted with the checkout girl didn't mean I had to be rude.

He smiled and took my cart. I watched as he walked it back to the front of the store, turned and waved at me, then walked away.


	15. One Hundred Years of Solitude

**But the truth was that he died from solitude, the enemy known but to few on this earth, and whom only the simplest of us are fit to withstand.**  
**~Joseph Conrad

* * *

**

**Chapter Fifteen: One Hundred Years of Solitude**  
**~Bella~**

I had done everything right. I had gone to therapy, joined a support group, and even taken medication for anxiety and depression for a while. But in the end my body still bore the physical scars and my heart bore the emotional ones.

Even in sleep, I was unable to find peace. It wasn't constant, but I was sometimes plagued by nightmares, waking up in the middle of the night, sweating and crying…and occasionally screaming. It was so bad in the beginning that both Alice and Emmett now had their own keys to my apartment, just so that they could wake me up when they couldn't stand listening to it anymore.

My view of the world had changed, and my view of men…well, that was complicated. I had male friends people I trusted and was comfortable around. I didn't jump at shadows or fear human contact. I had an almost obsessive crush on an actor, and there were plenty of men I found handsome and charming and interesting. I still lost myself in classic romance novels and chick flicks, the leading men each playing parts in my own little fantasies. And I saw lots of attractive men as I went about my life. I just didn't want to be with them.

I'd tried dating. Sure, I had given up after a couple of months, but God knows I'd given it a fair shot. First dates were awkward and uncomfortable. Second dates were worse. I didn't know about third dates because I'd never had one. I was destined to die a virgin, and while it wasn't what I would have chosen for myself, it was just what life had handed me.

Alice said I was being too picky, but wasn't I supposed to be picky? Jasper told me I needed to open up more, but I really didn't think pouring my heart out to a total stranger was the best idea. That sort of thing tends to invite the crazy label. Even Emmett gave me his version of advice, basically telling me I needed to get laid. I tended to agree with Emmett, although I wasn't sure how I was supposed to accomplish that. Creepy personal ad? Drunken proposition? Giant billboard over my apartment? There was no easy answer.

So I didn't date. I just knew better than to get my hopes up anymore. It was actually a lot easier to just stop trying altogether than it was to deal with the disappointment. And if I was being honest, I had to admit that the whole thing with James had really messed me up.

I'd had my fair share of first kisses since James, but they were empty, without sparks, and felt more like a chore than a gesture of affection. Affection. That was a whole different animal. I didn't care about any of the men I'd met. Sure, I cared about them in the sense that I didn't want them to suffer an accident or even a bad day. But I didn't care for them. It was almost like I couldn't care anymore. It was like the switch had been turned off and then broken in that position, and as much as I wanted to find love again, it just wasn't possible. I couldn't feel it.

And I didn't trust them. I thought they were decent people, and I didn't think any of them were out to hurt me, but I found myself listening to them drone on and on about interests I found…uninteresting, all the while wondering how they would handle life's hurdles, if they'd distance themselves from me or turn on me. And that was all during the first date. It was no wonder there weren't any sparks. I had no real interest in fire.

And anything beyond kissing was a just a disaster. If there's one thing a guy knows, it's when a girl just isn't feeling it. Or worse, when whatever move he's making inspires all the wrong feelings. One poor guy had tried to feel me up, and I'd started crying. Talk about embarrassing. I'd tried to explain myself, telling him simply that I'd gone through a bad experience and that it had nothing to do with him, but that was pretty much the end of any relationship we might have had. The next day I'd gotten a call from his sister, a counselor at a rape crisis center.

Now, for the first time in years, I found myself thinking about a man. Edward. He was smart and funny, charming and interesting, everything I would have wanted if I had any faith in relationships. He made me laugh, he made me want to talk to him. Hell, he'd even made a couple of appearances in my dreams. I found myself occasionally preoccupied with thoughts what it would be like to kiss him, to be in his arms, to hear his voice every morning. And then I stopped myself.

He wasn't just everything I could want; he was everything all women wanted. I barely knew him, and no matter what I dreamed he could be, I knew better than to expect that in reality. I was too much work, too emotionally damaged, too desperate to have a normal life. There was no way a man who could have anyone he wanted would burden himself with a project as impossible as Bella Swan. And he'd proven it at the grocery store.

Right in front of me he'd directed all his charm at the overly made up check out girl. If he was really interested in me, he wouldn't have done that, right? No, Edward had no designs on me, and I felt foolish for even entertaining the thought. Someone like Emmett's Rosalie was probably more his style. Smart, strong, beautiful. All the things I wasn't.


	16. The Ambitious Guest

**One event makes another: what we anticipate seldom occurs; what we least expected generally happens; and time can only prove which is most for our advantage.**  
** _~Benjamin Disraeli_**

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen: The Ambitious Guest  
~Bella~**

"So are you ever going to tell me what's going on?" Alice asked. She had been hovering over me for the last ten minutes, only moving enough to get out of my way when I needed something out of a cabinet or when I tossed another dish in the sink.

"What do you mean?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

"You've been really weird lately, ever since the jazz bar," she said. "Something's up with you, and don't think I don't see it."

"I've just been a little distracted lately," I told her, hoping that would be enough. It wasn't.

"Distracted, huh?" she asked.

"The store, Mrs. Schaffer, life," I said, waving my hand and praying she couldn't see through my feigned nonchalance. "You know how it is."

"Yes, I know exactly how it is, and this is different," she replied, narrowing her eyes at me. "There's something you're not telling me."

"Alice, leave her alone," Jasper said. "If she wants to talk about it, she'll talk about it."

Alice huffed and gave me a pouty look, but she went over to sit in Jasper's lap, still eyeing me suspiciously. Damn. I knew I was terrible at hiding things, but I really didn't want to talk about James yet. Truly, I wasn't sure how I was supposed to answer her. _ Yes Alice, as a matter of fact something is going on. James is back, and he seems as sweet as ever, so I'm not sure how to reconcile that with the crazed monster who tried to rape me. And then you had to go and introduce me to the most beautiful man who awakened something in me that I thought was dead, and now I can't get him out of my mind. _Yeah, I was pretty sure that was one answer I didn't want to volunteer. They didn't know him before things went bad. There was no way they'd understand my confusion now. Fortunately, Jasper seemed to be enough of a distraction for Alice, and while I could still feel her eyes on me, she didn't try to get anything more out of me.

"It's party time!" Emmett yelled, flinging the door open so hard it slammed into the wall. Rosalie was hanging on his arm again, and I wondered if she was actually going to be around for a while. What I wouldn't give for a chance like that. Not with Emmett, of course…just with someone.

"Is it ever _not_ party time with you?" I asked as I turned back to finish chopping tomatoes.

"Last night wasn't," Rosalie laughed. "Someone drank way too much Jaeger and spent the night worshipping the porcelain god."

"Ughh! Don't even say that word, Rose," Emmett groaned. "I can't lose my appetite when Bella's cooking."

"Jaeger, Jaeger, Jaeger…" she chanted, taunting him.

"Oooooh, I like her, Em," I laughed. "Finally someone who knows how to push your buttons."

"You can push my buttons anytime, baby," he crooned to her.

"Gross! Enough with the lovey crap," Alice complained.

"Oh, like you're one to talk, sitting in Jasper's lap there," Emmett retorted.

"Well, he took my chair. What was I supposed to do?" Alice whined.

"Would you like some help with that?" an all too familiar smooth voice asked from right behind me.

I dropped the knife and watched as it bounced off the counter and clattered across the floor.

"Maybe I should do that for you," he chuckled. "Wouldn't want you hurting yourself."

I spun around, doubting my hearing, certain that he couldn't really be in my kitchen. But sure enough, there he stood. Edward. With that smile.

"Ah…no…you just startled me," I stammered. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize anyone was in here," I said.

He glanced over the bar into the living room, where Emmett and Alice were still arguing about public displays of affection, and then his eyes were on me again.

"It seemed safer in here," he shrugged. "They might start throwing things," he said with a smirk.

"No, they tried that once," I said. "Alice chunked one of my plates at Emmett's head, and I didn't feed them for a month."

"That must have been hard for Emmett," he said.

"Damn right it was! Bella's cooking is addictive," Emmett yelled from the other room.

"Well, we wouldn't want to keep them waiting, would we?" Edward asked.

He picked the knife up off the floor and washed it off over the sink, and then he stepped over to the counter where I was standing. I was surrounded by his scent again, this time lighter, but still as intoxicating, and I stepped back. He casually picked up where I'd left off chopping, and the second I was released from the spell of his gaze, I scurried away to set the table.

Dinner was as entertaining as usual, maybe even a little more so with Edward and Rosalie there. Rosalie was a champ at verbally sparring with Emmett, and I think even Alice was impressed. Just before I served up dessert, Edward and Emmett launched into a fit of tales from their teenage years, surprising me with the fact that they'd known each other for so long. I wondered why Emmett had never mentioned Edward before. When they were done reliving the good old days, Edward started giving Jasper the third degree about his intentions with Alice, and Jasper took it in stride. Alice was simply beaming at his answers, and Edward seemed oddly pleased. Clearly he cared for Alice as much as her brother did.

We were down to the last bottle of wine, and Emmett had long since downed every last beer, when I went into the kitchen to start on the dishes. Alice moved to join me, but Edward stood and offered instead. Within seconds, he was washing, and I was drying, while we casually chattered about books and poetry.

"Well, you know how I hate to eat and run…" Emmett announced, standing to leave.

"No," Jasper laughed. "I believe what you hate to do is clean."

"Yeah, what he said. Bella, dear, it was excellent as always." He rubbed his protruding stomach, and Rosalie elbowed him in the ribs before he sucked it back in. "Now if you'll excuse us, I've suddenly got a craving for more dessert."

It didn't take a genius to figure out that by "more dessert" he meant "naked Rosalie." And if I had any doubt, the lecherous way he was eyeing her would have cleared that up right away.

"Us, too, Bella," Alice added. "It looks like you two have things under control." She and Jasper shared a conspiratorial look as she took his arm and practically yanked him to his feet.

What? Alice was leaving me? Alone with a stranger? Okay, so maybe he wasn't a stranger. He was Edward. And apparently they'd known him forever, so he couldn't be a serial killer. But what the hell? She was breaking the cardinal rule. My dinners were off limits for her matchmaking attempts, and she knew it. If I could have spit fire, I would have.

"If it makes you uncomfortable, I can leave," Edward said softly. Damn that voice.

"Ah…" I hesitated as the door shut, leaving me alone in my apartment with the best thing since sliced bread. Did I want him to leave? Or did I want him here? Ugh, why was being around him so comfortable and so disconcerting all at once?

"But I wouldn't feel right about leaving you with so much to do," he added, motioning toward the dishes that remained and the leftovers on the counter.

"No, it's fine. You can stay," I managed to say. Then I made the mistake of looking at him. Was that a smirk on his face? "I mean, you don't have to," I quickly added. "I'm used to being alone." Oh, crap. What was wrong with me? Now I just sounded pathetic. "I didn't mean it like that. I just…" Wow. Those eyes.

"Relax, Bella," he said. "I'll help you finish up in the kitchen, and then I'll go, okay?"

If I hadn't been so damned star struck by him, I might have been offended at his patronizing tone. Fortunately, he didn't say anything else. He just went back to scrubbing plates. After a few minutes of awkward silence, I decided to speak up.

"She's not supposed to do this, you know," I said quietly.

"Do what?" he asked without looking up.

"Try to set me up with someone here. My place has always been off limits for her little schemes."

"Actually, it was Emmett who invited me," he offered in explanation. "I don't think Alice really wanted me here."

"Well, he knows better, too," I huffed. "But why wouldn't Alice want you here?" She'd seemed just peachy about leaving me with him…

"She just has a skewed view of me, I think," he replied.

"How so?"

"Just…I guess…" He paused and sighed. "She doesn't think I'm a very good person," he finally said.

I wanted to ask what he meant. It was clear she couldn't have thought he was that bad, since she _did_ leave me all alone with him. But I didn't really know him and certainly didn't want to pry. So I decided to make light of it instead, hoping he'd either explain voluntarily or change the subject.

"Great. Alice left me all alone with a serial killer. Please tell me your normal targets are blonde."

"I haven't killed anyone in days," he deadpanned. "Does this mean I can't come next Friday?" he asked, looking up and instantly reducing me to a big puddle of drool.

"Ah…yes…I mean…no…if you want to," I stammered. I really needed to get a grip before he just started thinking I was short bus material.

"I'd love to," he said.

His eyes smoldered and he stepped closer to me. I stood there frozen in place. _He's going to kiss me? He's looking at my lips. He's going to kiss me! Hallelujah! _ My knees started to wobble, and I felt the blood rising to my cheeks. It was all I could do to keep my eyes from fluttering shut. Then he reached around me and set the dishrag on the edge of the sink.

"It looks like my work here is done," he said.

"Oh," I replied, trying to slow my racing heart. Could I have sounded any more disappointed?

"Do you work tomorrow?" he asked.

"Yes. It is retail, you know," I said, trying not to sound breathless.

"Would you mind if I stopped in?" he asked.

"You already finished all those books?" I asked. _God, I am such an idiot._

"Yes, years ago," he laughed. "But I thought maybe I could buy you a cup of coffee this time-or tea, I guess." When I didn't answer, he quickly added, "Since I'm a terrible cook and can't possibly return the favor of a home cooked meal. But I'm quite skilled at ordering hot beverages."

"Oh," I laughed. "Sure, that would be nice. I usually take my break around one."

"It's a date," he said.

Rather than make an even bigger fool of myself, I stepped around the bar to the front door. My mind was repeating the word "date" over and over in my head as I reached for the door. "Date" was normally such an ugly word in my experience, but the way he said it was like a beautiful promise. Yes, I was definitely losing my mind. The thought of putting myself out there, so to speak, was flitting around my brain, and it was a prospect that usually terrified me. But suddenly, the desolate life I'd been living was equally frightening.

I felt something brush my arm, and I jumped a little, startled. He drew his hand back quickly, looking concerned… confused ….disappointed?

"Soooo… I guess this is goodnight?" I asked.

"I guess it is," he said. He reached toward me, much more slowly this time, as if he expected me to back away. But even if that had been my intention, my body wouldn't have obeyed. It was those eyes, that smile, that amazing voice. I tried not to react when he brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, his thumb grazing my cheek. Damn he was good.

"Goodnight, Bella," he said softly.

And then he was gone.


	17. Great Expectations

**But what we call our despair is often only the painful eagerness of unfed hope.  
_~George Elliot_**

******Chapter Seventeen: Great Expectations  
~Bella**

I screamed. All I could see was the red glow of the alarm clock, and I couldn't make out the time. Everything was dark, and he was on top of me. His hand clamped roughly over my mouth, my teeth cutting into my lip. I twisted beneath him, but he caught my arms, pinning them over my head, and I knew this time I wouldn't be able to fight him off. I felt my legs being twisted apart, spread painfully wide. The whole world was shaking around me.

"Bella! Bella, wake up!"

The shaking continued, softer now, and I opened my eyes to see…Emmett? I threw my arms around him, trying to hold back my sobs and convince my racing heart that my current vision was real. It was just a nightmare.

"Shhhh…It's okay. You're safe." He kept one arm around me while his other stroked my hair. I felt another hand run over my back, and I raised my head from Emmett's massive chest to see Rosalie sitting beside us. I looked back at Emmett, the question in my eyes.

"I didn't tell her, but…"

I sighed and pulled away, collapsing back onto my pillows and trying to slow my breathing. Rosalie hovered over me, rubbing my arm. I didn't want her to know. I didn't want _anyone _to know. Seeing James must have triggered something in my subconscious. And I just wanted it to go away and let me get on with my pathetic solitary life.

"What time is it?" I asked.

"Four thirty," Rosalie replied softly.

I raised my head a little and looked at them. Emmett was in boxers and Rosalie was wearing a long t-shirt.

"I'm sorry I woke you," I mumbled.

"You gonna be okay?" Emmett asked.

"Yeah, Em. Thanks coming to my rescue," I said with a wry smile.

"Anytime, Bella. Try to get some sleep, okay?"

A few seconds later, I heard my front door close and Emmett's spare key turning the locks. I drifted off into a mercifully dreamless sleep.

We were insanely busy, even for a Saturday. Poor Tanya was running in circles from the floor to the counter to the stockroom, and every time she stopped to catch her breath, a customer would approach her with another question. Gloria was trapped at the register, but she was handling it like a pro, and the line never got more than three people deep. If it had been me, people would have given up and left a long time ago. I was simply doing my best to keep an eye on the sales floor. Between picking up books people had left lying around, and trying not to lose my patience with questions like, "Do you have the new Nora Roberts?" I was pretty close to losing my mind.

"Shouldn't you take a break?" Gloria asked when the crowd thinned a little.

"There's really not time," I said. "This is insane."

"I was afraid you were going to say that." _That_ wasn't Gloria's voice!

I snapped my eyes up from the shelves I was straightening to see Edward standing there with two Styrofoam cups. I ventured a glance at the clock. Two fifteen. Crap!

"I'm so sorry!" I exclaimed. "It's just been-"

"Insane?" he finished for me.

"Yes," I sighed. "Really, Edward, I didn't mean to keep you waiting. I don't know what's going on. We're never this busy." I felt awful.

"I don't mind. Really," he said, holding one of the cups out to me. "See? I even brought you tea. Chamomile, right?"

"Thank you." I didn't know what else to say. It was such a sweet gesture, and I felt like such a fool.

"Now, let's see about that break."

I looked around. There were still way too many people in the store to just abandon Gloria and Tanya.

"Hey, Bella!" came a cheery voice as the cowbell clanged again.

"Ben!" I couldn't help but smile. Even if our short dating experience hadn't led to romance, he was still one of the nicest guys I knew. It was impossible not to like him.

He found his way through the human maze and gave me a quick hug. "Thought you might want a snack," he said, handing me a small white bag.

It was still warm. Cookies.

"Thank you, Ben," I said. "You know you're going to get in trouble if you keep sneaking food over to me, right?"

"Are you kidding? The Klein's love you. Mrs. Klein noticed all the traffic and insisted I bring something to you."

"Oh, so maybe I should be thanking her?" I teased.

"No way!" he said. "I'm the one who had to fight the crowd to get to you."

"Well, then I'm in your debt," I laughed.

"Okay, eat up! Gotta run!" He gave Edward an odd look, hugged me again, and started making his way to the door.

"You have your own personal delivery boy?" Edward asked.

"Ben's my-" I stopped short when my eyes landed on his face, and I felt my smile fading. His own smile was still crooked, but coupled with the cold look in his eye, it was a little scary.

He cocked an eyebrow, like my Dad used to do when I didn't have a good excuse for missing curfew.

"He's my friend," I said. He would have liked Ben. Maybe he'd get to talk to him and meet Angela the next time they came to a Friday dinner. Then again, maybe he wouldn't. Maybe I'd just_ un_-invite him if he was going to be pulling this hot and cold, Dr. Jekyll / Mr. Hyde crap.

This was ridiculous. Why was I letting a practical stranger question who my friends were? I didn't have to answer to him. I looked back up at him, ready to thank him for the tea and tell him I was too busy to chat, but I was stopped yet again by his expression. He looked…embarrassed.

"Maybe we could just sit down for a minute?" he asked, gesturing toward my book nook.

"Ah…okay," I said.

He followed me to the loveseat and I sat down. He pulled some packets of sugar and a stir-stick out of his pocket. He'd been paying attention. I fixed my tea while he picked up some books that had been left on the cushions.

"Four thousand dollars?" he asked suddenly.

"What?" I jumped to my feet and grabbed the book from his hand. "Oh my God! This can't be out! Tanya!"

She had been pushing a little cart around, picking up discarded books to reshelf later. Her eyes widened as soon as she saw what I was holding.

"Oh, no! Oh, I'm so sorry! He was going to buy it. He was in line. I don't know what happened!" She was almost in tears.

I pushed the book at her and didn't say a word. She visibly gulped and took it straight to the glass case behind the counter. I sat down again and watched to make sure she locked it. I picked up my tea again just as I felt Edward staring at me. This time I needed to explain.

"It's a second edition," I said.

He nodded and sat down, waiting for me to continue.

"It's just…well, I guess you know about collectible books. But that's the rarest one we have. And to just leave it sitting here, where anyone could take it or spill something on it or…"

"So it's about money?" he asked, a curious expression on his face.

"No, it's just… It deserves better than that." Did I just tell him a book deserved something? Crap. Not only had I just nearly gone ballistic in front of him, but now I was talking about books like they were people. I guess to me they almost were, but I didn't have to sound completely nuts by telling him that.

"I'm sorry, Edward. I'm sure you were expecting something less…crazy than all this."

"You can't keep doing that, you know."

"Doing what?"

"Apologizing."

"But I forgot about our…plans." I had to stop myself from saying "date." "And then Ben interrupted, and I yelled at-"

"Do you realize you have apologized every time I've seen you?" he interrupted.

"Oh." Had I? "I'm sor-" I caught myself this time, but not before he started laughing. "That's not funny," I said, trying not to pout.

He tried not to chuckle. "Okay, then, change of subject. What's your favorite book?"

"Oh, that's easy. _Pride and Prejudice_," I said.

"Typical woman," he said.

"Well what's yours?" I countered.

"_A Farewell to Arms_," he replied.

"Ughh." I wrinkled up my nose. "And you call me typical. A man who reads Hemingway. I'm sooooo surprised."

"Oh really?" he asked. "I'll have you know that it's a tragic love story."

"I thought Hemingway only wrote about wars and stuff."

"No, my dear bookstore manager, he did not," he said with a smirk. "Okay, so maybe the love story took place during a war-"

"I knew it!" I laughed.

"It's still worth reading," he said.

"I don't think so. I get enough tragedy in real life. I need happy endings."

"But Jane Austen never got her happy ending," he said.

"Few ever do." The words were out of my mouth before I knew it, and I knew I must have sounded piteous. I smiled brightly to contradict my tone, and he seemed to buy it. I finally had a male friend who didn't pity me, and I wanted to keep it that way. Perhaps if he saw me as normal, and maybe even attractive, I could begin to see myself through his eyes.

"Well," he said, glancing at his watch. "It's my turn to apologize."

"You have to go?" I asked.

"Yes. And I am truly sorry to leave."

He stood and gave me that crooked grin again. I would have walked him out, but I felt my legs go weak.

"If I don't run into you before, I'll see you on Friday."

"Thanks for the tea," I said. _And the hope. _


	18. Much Ado About Nothing

**"What is life but a series of inspired follies?"  
_~George Bernard Shaw _**

**Chapter Eighteen: Much Ado About Nothing  
****~Bella**

Sunday went as Sundays always had. I slept in, worked until five, and went to Mrs. Schaeffer's. If the state of her house and her wonderful mood were any indication, Bruce and Sylvia were taking good care of her. I insisted on making dinner, and we all sat down to eat together. Once again, I was a member of a mismatched family, and while it made me happy, it also made me very lonely.

Monday was much the same, except for the longer work day. We finally figured out what had caused the crazy rush of customers, and while we'd enjoyed the increased sales, we were glad it was over. As it turned out, Antiques Roadshow had been in town, and inspired treasure hunters had raided estate sales and sellers of all things vintage and collectible in the hopes of discovering something rare and more valuable than anyone expected. According to the newspaper, only one visitor had hit the jackpot, and that was with an old lamp he'd found in his own attic.

The rest of the week slipped by just as uneventfully, and before I knew it, it was Friday. Time to stock up for another dinner.

I spent the morning reading. Elizabeth had just seen Georgiana playing the piano when I realized I'd better get a move on. I dressed a little nicer than I usually would have for a simple trip to the grocery store, and I told myself it was because Alice would have been embarrassed by the yoga pants and sweatshirt I'd been lounging around in. But if I was being completely honest with myself, I knew it was just because I was hoping to run into Edward again.

I hadn't seen him since that chaotic Saturday afternoon, and I found that I was disappointed by that. I actually missed him a little. Maybe it was just his eyes I missed. Or that amazing smile. Or the hopeless fantasy that I might not grow old alone. Whatever it was, I'd grown bored with the Alice / Jasper, Emmett / Rosalie show, and I really longed for a distraction. I reminded myself that I didn't want to date him. There was no way I was ready for a relationship. I just wanted to talk to him again.

Two hundred and thirty-eight dollars later, I was packing my truck full of groceries, and still no Edward. I'd even walked down every aisle extra slow, spending longer than I needed to in the frozen and canned food aisles. When I got to the wine aisle I practically camped out there until one of the store employees started talking my ear off about his trip to the Napa Valley. It was pathetic, really. But I knew a lost cause when I saw one, so I crawled up into my truck, chugged along home, and pulled into my usual parking space in the underground garage.

Another great thing about my apartment: security. Every entrance held a huge set of French doors that could only be accessed with a key or if someone buzzed you in. Unfortunately, I'd dropped my keys in my purse, but one of my neighbors was walking out at the same time, and he held the door for me. I gave him a grateful smile and heard the door creak shut behind me as I punched the elevator button. Nothing. I hit it again, and then looked up. The display above the elevator didn't have a single floor lit up, and I couldn't hear the familiar hum. Great. Four flights of stairs.

Surprisingly, I made it up the stairs, bags in tow, without falling to my death. Given my inherent clumsiness, this was quite a feat. As I stepped out into the hallway, I set the bags down and fumbled through my purse looking for my keys. I heard a clanking noise and looked to see a can of broth tumble and roll its way down the stairs. One of these days I was going to break down and buy some of those reusable eco-bags with strong handles. Those flimsy plastic bags the grocery store tried to cram too much into really sucked.

I unlocked my door, carried the bags inside, and set them on the counter. I wished I'd thought to stock up with a couple of cans like I usually did, but obviously my mind had been elsewhere at the time. I really didn't want to fetch my dented can from the stairwell, but there was no getting around it unless I changed my menu for tonight. I tossed my keys in the bowl by the door and trekked back over to the stairwell. Would you believe that sneaky little can rolled all the way down to the second floor landing? In true Bella fashion, three steps in I tripped over absolutely nothing, and my body tried to take the same route that the can had. I could feel each bump, each scrape of the concrete steps on my shins and arms as I tumbled. I tried to catch the railing, but couldn't make purchase. Finally, I came to an abrupt stop, my head bouncing off the wall with a sickening crack. I prayed it was the plaster and not my skull that had caused that sound.

I sat there for a second, dazed. My fingers moved. I could still feel my toes. At least nothing appeared to be broken. I managed to grab the rail this time, pulling myself to stand. Just as quickly I crumpled back against the wall, hands in my hair. Everything was spinning, and with each breath the stabbing pain in my head had me wishing for unconsciousness or death. At the time, I would have happily taken either.

"Ma'am? Ma'am, are you okay?"

I heard a rush of footsteps from below and an unfamiliar voice. I raised my head to see who it was and groaned.

"Don't move, okay? I'm gonna call 911," said the neighbor who'd held the door for me. Thank God he'd decided to come back inside so quickly.

I wanted to tell him to just give them my name and they'd know exactly where to find me, but speaking required movement, and that only caused pain. Instead I just moaned and rested my head against the wall, waiting for the inevitable siren signaling the arrival of my now familiar EMTs.

* * *

"Bella, try not to blink, dear. We just need to make sure your vision is okay," Carlisle said as he waved the little flashlight in my face.

"It won't be if you keep trying to blind me," I mumbled.

"You took quite a fall."

"Thanks. I was hoping you'd be impressed."

I knew I was being unnecessarily rude, but my head hurt like hell, and I was getting tired of these little side-trips to the ER.

"I can tell your mental faculties haven't been affected," he laughed. "You'll have a nasty headache, but other than that you should be fine."

I managed a weak smile.

"So, what was it this time?" he asked.

If it had been anyone else, I would have been upset. But Carlisle wasn't making fun of me. In fact, he was so used to my unusual accident stories that he actually seemed to look forward to them. He'd once told me that if anyone could break a leg by scratching their nose, it would be me.

"Chicken broth?" I replied sheepishly.

"Sounds frightful!" he exclaimed dramatically, a twinkle in his eye.

I started to laugh, and then groaned, rubbing my head again.

"Why don't we get you something for the pain?" he asked.

"General anesthesia is fine with me," I joked.

"I was thinking something a little milder," he said with a smile.

* * *

** This has nothing whatsoever to do with the story, but I just have to ask...  
Were Lisa and I the only people who zeroed in on KStew's little nip slip in Breaking Dawn?**

**Oh, and I have a "new" story...really an old one that I never ever posted anywhere...okay, so it's more of a drabble type thingy...  
Yeah, go check it out: The Lies We Tell Ourselves  
It's posted here on FFn, and I plan on posting at least one little chapter a day.  
Unless I get hit by a comet, in which case all bets are off. **


	19. Praise of Folly

**The unexpected has happened so continually in my life that it has ceased to deserve the name.  
_~Sir Arthur Conan Doyle_**

**Chapter Nineteen: Praise of Folly  
~Bella**

I was sitting in Carlisle's office waiting for my cab. The hospital was too far from my apartment to walk, even without a head injury and what were sure to be some extremely sore muscles, and I couldn't reach Alice. The pain medication Carlisle had given me was starting to kick in, too, and I was starting to feel almost giddy. It was probably a good thing he insisted on a cab. Sober Bella was clumsy enough. Drunken Bella was a disaster of epic proportions.

"Did Alice remember to invite you to the barbecue tomorrow?" Carlisle asked.

"Do you honestly think she'd pass up the chance to dress me up?" I joked.

His face broke out into a huge smile...a little crooked, I noticed. The Cullens had family dinner every Saturday. I was often invited but I usually declined because I had to work. But when they went all out with something like a barbecue or a birthday, I found that Alice wouldn't take no for an answer.

"No, I guess not," he conceded.

"Dr. Cullen?" A young nurse poked her head through the open doorway.

"Yes, Ms. Stanley?"

"The lab results you asked for are ready."

"I'll be right out," Carlisle said. "Oh, Ms. Stanley?"

"Yes, Dr. Cullen?"

"Have you met Bella yet?"

"No, I don't believe so," she said, smiling warmly at me and reaching to shake my hand.

"It's nice to meet you," I said.

"I've heard a lot about you," she said.

"Oh, I can only imagine."

I rolled my eyes, and she laughed. She was shorter than me, and very cute. Her naturally wavy hair was starting to escape the tight bun she had twisted it into, and it was a very becoming look on her. I knew that if she caught my attention, she must be turning the heads of the doctors as well. She seemed very nice.

"Call me Jessica," she said. "I'm sure we'll meet again."

"Well, Bella, I hope I don't see you again before the barbecue," Carlisle said with a wink.

"That makes two of us," I laughed.

"I have to run, but you're welcome to wait here. Ms. Stanley will let you know when your cab arrives," he said. "Oh, and make it six hours before your next dose, okay?"

"Thanks, Carlisle," I said as he walked out.

* * *

"Hey, D-" Edward strode quickly through the doorway and stopped in front of Carlisle's empty desk.

I knew he was a doctor, but I was surprised to see him here. He hadn't said anything about his job, not even his specialty, but I had assumed he was in private practice or something. Part of me was overjoyed to see him again and know that I would probably be seeing him at least every few months. And part of me was horribly embarrassed.

"He had to go check on some lab thing," I said.

He spun around quickly, and I realized I had surprised him as well. "Bella?"

Even in scrubs he looked amazing.

"Hi," I said, giving him a sheepish wave. I was feeling quite drunk now, and I was praying I didn't say something stupid.

"What happened?" he asked, instantly filling the seat beside me and taking my little white paper bag from my hands. He peered inside as if expecting to find the answer stamped on the prescription bottle.

"I fell. It's nothing really."

"This is an awfully strong painkiller, Bella. It doesn't sound like nothing." he said.

"I might have hit my head," I said, shrugging like it was no big deal.

"Who examined you? What did they say? Do you have a concussion? I should probably take a look at your chart."

"Slow down there," I laughed. "I'm fine. No concussion or anything, just a killer headache. It's actually a lot better now. A _lot_ better. "

"I can see that," he said, clearly amused by my tipsiness. "I just didn't expect to run into you here."

"Oh, should I be in the waiting room? Carlisle said it was okay..." I wondered if I was breaking some kind of hospital rule.

"Carlisle? You're on a first name basis with the Chief of Staff?" he asked, more than a little surprised.

"You haven't heard about me? I'm kind of famous here," I joked. "A few more punches on my card, and I get a free surgery."

"Bella?" Jessica called, sticking her head in. "Oh, I'm sorry, Doctor," she said when she noticed Edward. Um...Bella's cab is here."

"Thanks, Jessica," I said.

I stood a little too quickly, and immediately swayed. Edward caught my arm and held it, watching me intently.

"Wow. Doesn't hurt at all," I said. I wasn't feeling any pain. In fact, I wasn't feeling much of anything... except the overwhelming desire to giggle. Thank God Carlisle always had my prescriptions filled by the hospital. I didn't think I would have made it if I'd had to stop by the pharmacy.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Edward asked worriedly.

"Hey, the Chief of Staff signed me out himself. How bad could it be?" I said, trying to make light of it. His concern was touching...attractive actually. If I didn't get out of there soon I was going to do something embarrassing...like kiss him. The opiate high I was on had me feeling very bold, and way too honest.

"Will you call and let me know you got home safely?" he asked. "Otherwise I'll be worried about you all night."

So he thought about me at night? Wait, no, he just said he would be worried. Wow. These pills were amazing!

"I'll be fine. Besides, everyone's coming over soon anyway. Dinner, remember?" Crap. How was I supposed to cook like this?

"Bella, you really should take it easy. Why don't I...call Alice and have her bring you dinner instead?" he offered.

"You've obviously never had Alice's idea of dinner," I said. "I like cupcakes. Really I do. But after a dozen or so..."

"Okay," he chuckled. "But promise me you won't start cooking until someone's there with you, okay?"

"No playing with fire. Got it."

"And maybe I should walk you out," he said, placing my hand in the crook of his arm.


	20. The Divine Comedy

**She had not known the weight until she felt the freedom!  
_~Nathaniel Hawthorne_**

**Chapter Twenty: ****The Divine Comedy**  
~Bella

* * *

Emmett was sitting on the counter with a big smirk on his face, watching me. He'd arrived home just as I was stumbling out of the cab, and despite my protests, he'd insisted on carrying me up the stairs. I was glad I didn't have to navigate the stairwell alone in my drugged out state, but what I did _not_ appreciate was hanging upside down over his shoulder the whole way. I'm pretty sure he was flexing his butt the entire time.

"What's so funny?" I asked.

"You."

I tried to glare at him, but I only made myself burst into a fit of giggles. Giggles!

"See?" he said, pointing right at me and grinning.

I threw a potato at him instead.

"Am I interrupting something?" Edward asked with a smirk.

"Dude, we gotta keep her on these pills!" Emmett exclaimed.

Another potato had to die, but at least it beaned Emmett on its way out.

"Okay, Ms. Swan, maybe you should sit down for a minute," Edward said in his best doctor voice.

I grabbed another potato, but he was too fast. Before I could even think about throwing it, he'd caught my wrist. I tried to push him away, but soon my other wrist was caught and held above my head. His grin was as big as Emmett's.

"Damn, Bella, you're feisty when you're on drugs," Emmett said.

"You leave her alone, or I'll show you feisty!" Alice threatened from her perch on the sofa. She and Rosalie were engrossed in a Project Runway marathon on TV.

I struggled weakly to pull my hands from Edward's grasp, but it was useless. For my efforts, I got a very smug, very amused, very crooked smile. Well, just because Edward had my hands pinned didn't mean I had to give in easily.

"Ow!" he groaned. A quick kick in the shin will do that. I just smiled at him.

A second later I was pressed between his body and the counter. He was smiling triumphantly, and I couldn't take my eyes off his lips. I could feel every line of his body against mine…his strong thighs pressing into mine, his chest flat against me, his…well, if _that_ was the effect I had on him, I couldn't very well just let it slide. I smirked and wiggled against him.

"What are we going to do with you?" Edward laughed, backing away from me slightly.

I was tempted to suggest a few things. I just started giggling again. Emmett was right. These pills were wonderful.

"Rosalie!" Edward yelled toward the living room. "Your assistance is needed in the kitchen."

"But I don't cook!" she yelled back.

"Can you babysit?"

Rosalie kept me occupied while Edward and Emmett finished making dinner. I was so loopy from the pain medication Carlisle had given me that I spent most of the time laughing at their efforts. It didn't help that Emmett had decided to don the flowered apron I had hanging in the pantry. Edward had to ask me for instructions a few times, but in the end, the meal came together perfectly, and for the most part, my kitchen was in one piece. Jasper even volunteered to do the dishes afterward.

Like the last time, when the evening came to a close, Edward and I were the only ones left.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Wonderful," I said, trying to stifle a yawn.

"No headache, dizziness, nausea…?"

"No, Dr. Edward," I laughed. "I feel great."

He shook his head & smiled. "Come on. I'm taking you to bed."

Huh? I knew I was a little out of it, but had I missed something? I was filled with a mixture of panic and excitement, and I'm sure `I turned bright red.

"Not like _that_, Bella," he said. "I just don't want you walking into walls or falling off the balcony after I leave."

If I wasn't blushing before, I was now. Of course my mind had gone straight to the gutter when he was just trying to be a gentleman. He led me down the hallway to my bedroom, and I suddenly felt very sober…and very uncomfortable. I plopped down on the side of the bed.

"Where do you keep your nightgowns?" he asked.

"Huh?"

"Whatever you sleep in. Where do you keep it?" he asked again.

I pointed to the dresser. Surely he wasn't going to… "Edward, I…you don't have to…" _Please don't open my underwear drawer! _ I jumped to my unsteady feet as his hand hovered at the top drawer of my dresser, sighing with relief when he hesitated and moved to the drawer below it. He plucked out one of my big t-shirts, chuckled when he saw the faded image on the front, and handed it to me.

"Here, put this on and get in bed," he said. Then he walked into the hallway, shutting the door behind him. I changed as quickly as I could and crawled into bed. Had he left?

As if he could read my mind, I heard a knock at the door. "May I come in now?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said, trying not to sound as freaked out as I was. I sat up, but I didn't know what to do. Should I say something? Apologize for being so…weird tonight?

He walked over to the bed. Sitting down on the edge, he placed a glass of water on my nightstand. I watched as he checked out my alarm clock, pressing a few of the buttons, and then switched it on.

"Lie down, Bella," he said softly.

It was the first time a man had been in my room since James. The bed was different, as was the paint on the walls, the rug…pretty much everything. But it was still my room, and here he was, sitting on my bed. He put his hand on my shoulder, pressing lightly, and my body obeyed without my permission. I lay back against the pillows, staring at his beautiful face in the warm glow of the lamp. He pulled the duvet up over my chest and leaned in. My eyes fluttered shut as I felt his soft lips press against my forehead.

"Sweet dreams, Bella," he whispered.

Oh, they would be now.


End file.
